- 


J  L  - 


SHARP  EYES 

A    RAMBLER'S    CALENDAR 

OF  FIFTY-TWO  WEEKS  AMONG 
INSECTS,  BIRDS,  AND  FLOWERS 


. 


BY 
WM.  HAMILTON  GIBSON 


LIGHT    AND   SUNSHINE 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  THE  AUTHOR 


NEW  YORK  AND   LONDON 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 

1904 


OF  EIES  <^JND  SEEING" 


11  For  the  blind  man  saith,  '  7, 
thing  as  sight '.  .  .  .  There  is  the  c 
maladie  of  blindnesse,  and  there^ 
mental  maladie  of  blind  sight .  .  . 
sooth  ye  are  all  blinde  except 
and  eie  doe  seek  in  barmdfn 
there  be  those  who  see  not  thou 
looke,  who  having  eies  of 
yet  walk  abroad  in  staringe 


Ian 

ised  myself 
.  a 

ecipient  o 
— occasion- 
tiers  from 


E 

which 

and  many  otheillPnd  ml 

decade  past  I  have  been  t) 

continuous  special  correspont 
ally  amounting  to  an  inquisition — embracing 
all  parts  of  the  United  States,  and  even  rerm 
tions,  mainly  penned  by  young  students  of  Natural  His- 
tory, who,  having  been  deceived  by  some  misleading 
spirit  in  my  previously  published  pages,  have  sought  my 
opinion  as  though  consulting  the  oracle. 

These  letters  have  embraced  questions,  I  had  almost 
said,  upon  every  conceivable  subject  of  zoology;  ques- 
tions which  frequently  would  have  taxed  the  erudition 
of  Humboldt  himself,  to  say  nothing  of  an  occasional 
inquiry  which  would  as  certainly  for  the  moment  have 
annihilated  his  equanimity. 

The  correspondence  which  these  letters  have  evoked 
from  me  if  used  as  MS.  would  yield  a  book  of  no  mean 
dimensions,  and  the  time  and  labor  involved  therein, 
taken  also  in  connection  with  the  frequent  repetition  of 
the  same  queries  from  various  widely  separated  locali- 
ties, continually  suggested  the  idea  that  a  popular  vol- 
ume based  upon  such  questions  might  "  meet  a  long- 
felt  want,"  as  it  certainly  would  meet  a  genuine  need. 


Vlll  THROUGH    MY   SPECTACLES 

Recognizing,  too,  the  evident  hunger  for  information 
concerning  every-day  objects  in  Nature,  and  that  where 
one  individual  would  write  for  enlightenment  one  hun- 
dred would  wonder  in  silence  and  ten  thousand  dwell  in 
heedless  innocence,  I  realized  that  such  a  book  might 
also  go  forth  as  a  missionary  to  open  the  eyes  of  the 
blind,  or  at  least  quicken  a  desire  for  a  fuller  compre- 
hension of  the  omnipresent  marvel  and  beauty  of  the 
commonplace. 

To  all  these  considerations  and  conditions  this  volume 
owes  its  final  embodiment.  It  is,  after  all,  but  a  hint. 
If  it  shall  serve  as  a  courier,  if  only  to  open  the  door — 
to  lower  the  bars,  as  it  were,  to  these  "  pastures  new," 
surely  it  will  not  have  been  uttered  in  vain. 

Not  a  few  of  my  friends  will,  perhaps,  discover  fa- 
miliar words  in  the  following  pages  ;  while  others,  I  am 
assured,  will  herein  recognize  the  first  response  of  a 
dilatory  correspondent. 

Sharp  Eyes,  then,  is,  in  brief,  a  cordial  recommenda- 
tion and  invitation  to  walk  the  woods  and  fields  with 
me,  and  reap  the  perpetual  "  harvest  of  a  quiet  eye," 
which  Nature  everywhere  bestows ;  to  witness  with  me 
the  strange  revelations  of  this  wild  bal  masqut ;  to 
laugh,  to  admire,  to  study,  to  ponder,  to  philosophize — 
between  the  lines — to  question,  and  always  to  rejoice 
and  give  thanks ! 

Sharp  Eyes  is,  moreover,  a  plea  for  the  rational,  con- 
templative country  ramble.  It  is  a  messenger  to  that 
thoughtless  host  to  whom  Nature  is  a  closed  book — not 
only  unopened,  but  with  leaves  uncut — to  those  who 
would  take  a  "  walk"  perhaps,  but  to  whom,  it  would 
seem,  the  only  virtues  of  a  walk  are  comprised  in  the 
quickening  pulse,  the  expansion  of  lung,  and  the  cul- 
tivation of  brawn.  To  such,  a  walk  may  be  an  exhila- 
ration and  a  positive  benefit,  but  scarcely  the  means  of 
grace  which  is  implied  in  the  stroll  or  ramble.  I  would 


THROUGH    MY    SPECTACLES  IX 

lay  open  a  few,  a  very  few,  of  these  uncut  pages,  which 
I  have  learned  by  heart,  that  a  "  little  may  be  read," 
even  as  we  run.  I  would  give  at  least  one  worthy  mo- 
tive for  a  stroll  for  every  day  in  the  year — storm  or 
shine,  summer  or  winter — conscious  that  in  thus  seeing 
through  my  spectacles  my  proselytes  will  surely  rejoice 
in  their  conversion. 

As  to  the  assumptive  tone  of  my  title,  I  would  add  a 
few  words.  The  term  "  sharp  eyes  "  is,  after  all,  but 
relative.  There  are  degrees  of  sharpness  of  vision  even 
as  there  are  degrees  of  blindness.  An  eye  may  be 
"sharp"  for  birds  but  blind  to  botany;  keen  for  Indian 
arrow-heads  and  dull  to  entomology,  but  never  omni- 
scient ;  or,  as  Thoreau  figuratively  but  forcibly  puts  it, 
"a  man  absorbed  in  the  study  of  grasses  tramples  down 
oaks  unwittingly  in  his  walks." 

Thus,  if  the  expression  of  these  pages  shall  appear 
somewhat  pedagogic,  the  critical  reader  will  bear  in 
mind  that  they  were  not  intended  for  the  scientist  nor 
zoologist,  nor,  of  course,  for  eyes  sharper  than  my  own 
in  these  especial  fields.  Prompted  originally  by  the 
numerous  juvenile  correspondence,  and  prepared  for  the 
columns  of  a  young  people's  journal,  any  inference  of 
conscious  didacticism  in  the  author  may  perhaps  best 
be  met  in  the  apology  of  the  old  Roman  proverb:  "Inter 
caecos  regnat  luscus" — among  the  blind,  a  one-eyed  man 
is  king.  Indeed,  are  we  not  all  relatively  blind?  Is  not 
the  "sharpest  eye"  continually  reminded  of  how  blind 
it  was  but  yesterday? 

Truly  speaks  "  Fra  Lippo  Lippi :" 

"  We're  made  so,  that  we  love 

First,  when  we  see  them  painted,  things  we  have  passed 
Perhaps  a  hundred  times,  nor  cared  to  see  " — 

an  axiom  which  needs  no  emphasizing,  being  borne  out 
in  every  one's  experience.  Many  of  these  "  things  we 


X  THROUGH    MY    SPECTACLES 

have  not  cared  to  see  "  are  the  subjects  of  the  following 
chapters — things  not  rare,  nor  seclusive,  nor  foreign, 
which  are  to  be  found  in  almost  any  of  our  woods,  or 
fields,  or  copses,  and  which  any  wide-awake  saunterer 
may  discern  with  "  half  an  eye,"  if  that  member  be  prop- 
erly equipped.  Anticipation  is  an  equipment,  the  surest 
talisman  to  discovery,  and  anticipation  may  be  quick- 
ened either  by  pictorial  hint  or  previous  experience.  The 
retina  must  be  on  the  alert.  A  boy  who  has  woodchucks 
in  his  eye  as  he  crosses  the  farm  is  sure  to  see  his  wood- 
chuck,  while  otherwise  he  never  had  got  a  glimpse  of 
him.  It  matters  not  in  what  particular  direction  the 
eye  is  educated  ;  the  habit  of  observation  in  one  field 
quickens  the  powers  of  perception  in  any  other,  and  the 
results  depend  not  upon  the  eye — the  camera — but  upon 
the  spirit  and  inspiration  behind  the  retina,  for  "  there 
is  no  more  power  to  see  in  the  eye  itself  than  in  any 
other  jelly;"  in  the  words  of  William  Blake,  "we  see 
tlirougJi  it,  not  with  it,"  even  as  through  our  spectacles. 

Moreover,  to  the  average  observer,  if  the  eye  is  ever 
thus  to  be  a  means  of  grace  it  must  store  up  its  harvest 
while  hearts  are  light  and  life  is  new,  when  eyes  are 
bright  and  unbedimmed.  How  many  a  prisoner  caged 
in  city  walls  is  living  on  the  harvest  stored  in  free,  un- 
burdened youth,  and  which  has  never  been  replenished. 

"When  one  thinks  of  the  Greeks,"  writes  Ouida, 
"playing,  praying,  laboring,  lecturing,  dreaming,  sculpt- 
uring, training,  living  everlastingly  in  the  free  wind  and 
under  the  pure  heavens,  and  then  reflects  that  the  chief 
issue  of  civilization  is  to  pack  human  beings  like  salt- 
fish  in  a  barrel,  with  never  a  sight  of  leaf  or  cloud,  never 
a  whisper  of  breeze  or  bird — oh,  the  blessed  blind  men 
who  talk  of  Progress!  ' 

In  the  more  serious  pursuit  of  scientific  study,  the 
wilds  offer  limitless  opportunities  to  the"  close  observer, 
and  especially  to  the  young  whose  lives  are  spent  among 


THROUGH    MY   SPECTACLES  XI 

the  hills.  There  is  yet  plenty  of  work  for  sharp  eyes  to 
do,  many  a  "common  thing"  whose  secret  is  yet  undis- 
covered, and  few  "  known  "  things  that  are  not  still  a 
constant  rebuke  to  our  self-satisfaction.  The  first  mead- 
ow you  meet  is  a  great  "  undiscovered  country;"  learned, 
as  we  thought,  in  its  length  and  breadth  yesterday,  it  is 
still  undiscovered  to-day.  The  life  history  of  many  of 
our  common  plants,  birds,  insects,  and  mammals  yet  re- 
mains to  be  truly  written.  The  keen,  alert  eye  of  boy- 
hood often  has  opportunities  and  leisure  for  discovery 
denied  to  his  elder,  burdened  fellow-beings,  and  evi- 
dences are  not  wanting  to  prove  that  even 

"  A  raw  recruit, 
Perchance,  may  shoot 
Great  Buonaparte." 

The  facts  in  the  following  pages  are  almost  entirely 
drawn  from  individual  experience,  largely  gathered  in 
boyhood,  the  apparently  random  selection  being  based 
upon  a  desire  for  the  greatest  variety  possible  within  a 
limited  range  of  the  minor  flora  and  fauna.  The  dates 
are  apportioned  from  careful  notes,  verified  through  a 
record  of  many  years.  In  most  cases  they  are  not  arbi- 
trary, being  fixed  at  the  mean  period  for  each  subject. 
The  calendar  is  based  upon  the  latitude  of  Connecticut, 
and  while  the  dates  given  will,  in  most  cases,  be  authen- 
tic for  a  district,  covering  the  whole  of  New  England 
and  the  Middle  States,  some  adjustments  will  be  nec- 
essary for  Southern  readers,  there  being  at  least  three 
weeks'  variance  in  the  floral,  and  inferentially  in  the 
whole  natural  calendar,  between  the  latitudes  of  Maine 
and  Florida. 

Apology  for  the  conspicuous  preferment  of  my  drag- 
on-fly as  an  emblem  for  cover  and  title-page  will  certainly 
be  unnecessary  to  those  who  are  familiar  with  this  gro 
tesque  of  the  insect  world.  The  natural  symbol  of  om- 


Xll  THROUGH    MY   SPECTACLES 

niscience,  a  creature  of  the  two  elements,  sharp-eyed 
alike  in  both,  possessed  of  a  head  which  is,  in  fact,  all 
eyes,  have  we  not  here  an  embodied  and  tangible  "  qui 
vive"  beside  which  the  fabled  Argus  of  old  is  a  tame 
conception  ?  The  seat  of  its  keen  intelligence,  double- 
domed  and  literally  begemmed  with  sight,  reinforced, 
too,  with  wings  which  convert  the  horizon  to  a  present 
kingdom,  where  shall  my  volume  look  for  a  more  apt 
emblem? 

Moreover,  what  reminders  of  red-letter  days  are 
awaked  in  his  familiar  shape — visions  of  lush  green  tan- 
gles, of  water- weeds  and  lily- pads,  of  rippling  brooks 
and  dipping  oars  and  dancing  bobbers ;  placid  lakes, 
cool  forest  glades,  and  meadows  redolent  with  bloom. 
May  we  not  accept  our  dragon-fly  even  as  a  courier? 


July  .0, 


W.  HAMILTON  GIBSON, 

Washington,  Conn. 


T 


Spring 

HE  earliest  blossom,  the  skunk-cabbage  flower,  visited  by  bees  in  snowy  March. 
— Revels  of  the  sprouting  maple-seeds.  —  Peeping  frogs:  spring  music  from 
the  swamp  :  Hy  lodes,  Hyla,  and  cricket -frog.  Imitation  of  Hy  lodes.  Tree- 
toads  in  March. — Vernal  greeting  from  the  pines.  Clicking  cones.  Hygro- 
metric  hocus-pocus  of  pine-cone. — The  squirrel  as  a  botany  teacher.  Spiral 
arrangement  of  cone-scales.  —  Spring  blossoms  :  avant-conrrieres  among  the 
wild  flowers.  Blossoms  under  snow.  Poetical  allusions. — Quickening  seeds. 
Clover  infants,  beech  babies,  and  maples  in  swaddling-clothes.  "  Great  oaks 
from  little  acorns  grow."  Masquerade  of  the  maple-seeds. — A  butterfly  sere- 
nade: musical  wings  of  the  "yellow-edge."  Caterpillar  swarms  of  Antiopa. — 
A  rosy-winged  rattling  locust  and  his  agile  emerald  companion  of  the  spring 
woods. — A  water-fairy:  filmy  opalescent  sylph  of  the  snow-pools. — Birds  of 
April.  The  poets'  harbingers.  Bird  songs  in  onomatopoeia.  The  grackles' 
"  clatterin'."  The  "  partridge  "  and  his  mysterious  "drum."  Authorities  at 
odds. — Our  loftiest  weed.  Its  beautiful  pith.  A  tall  story. — The  hay-fever 
reprobate. — Tenacious  oak-leaves  defiant  of  winter  storms. — A  prehistoric  pot- 
ter ;  earthen  jugs  of  the  vase-maker  wasp  and  their  lively  contents. — Unfold- 
ing buds.  Vernal  tints  in  the  bourgeoning  woods.  A  poetical  bit  of  mirrored 
truth.  Winter-bud  secrets.  Beautiful  designs  in  buds.  The  autumn  dog- 
wood bud  and  its  botanical  lesson. — A  flower  that  is  not  a  flower. — The  toad 
and  his  bagpipe.  Drowsy  drool  of  the  twilight  marshes.  A  frog-song  mimic. 
Mimicry  of  toad  song.  A  very  homely  singer.  Southern  frog  music  extraor- 
dinary. A  Japanese  frog  trio. — May-apples  and  false  May-apples.  Dr.  Gray's 
"pigs  and  boys."  The  mandrake  May-apple  described.  The  swamp-pink 
apple  and  its  mission.  A  poison  May-apple. — A  blossom  in  masquerade; 


XIV  CONTENTS 

the  flower  with  a  scarlet  cloak. — The  well-kept  secret  of  the  flowering  winter- 
green,  or  polygala  ;  anchor  flowers  underground.  —  The  dwarf  ginseng  and 
its  sweet  "ground-nut." — Bewitched  cocoons;  Polyphemus  and  Cecropia  co- 
coons packed  full  of  mischief.  A  spurious  brood;  "ugly  wasps"  instead  of 
beautiful  moths.  The  witch  at  work.  A  pulpit  theme.— Life  under  a  stone. 
"Finds"  for  the  naturalist.  A  beetle  with  a  gun:  the  bombardier  and  his 
shooting  propensities.  "  Three  rounds."  Utility  of  the  demonstration. — The 
devil's  coach-horse  and  his  wonderful  tail:  a  test  for  sharp  eyes.  The  "light- 
ning change  artist"  of  the  bug  circus;  from  a  buzzing  fly  to  a  wingless 
bug  in  a  twinkling.  How  it  is  accomplished. — Butterflies  as  botany  teach- 
ers. Plants  classified  into  genera  before  the  era  of  the  human  botanist.  Re- 
markable botanical  instincts  of  the  black  "  swallow-tail."  The  wise  Archippus 
and  other  butterflies Pages  1-86 


Summer 

kOISON- SUMACHS  and  the  suspected  Virginia  creeper.  Dangerous  species 
easily  distinguished.  A  simple  "jingle"  for  a  talisman.  "  Expert "  advice. 
The  harmless  and  libelled  Ampelopsis,  or  woodbine,  exonerated. — Awakening 
mummies :  queer  antics  of  burrowing  chrysalids.  A  strange  resurrection  in 
the  June  woods. — A  glittering-winged  gem;  pure  gold  outrivalled.  A  gold- 
mine among  the  bind -weed  leaves. — Another  insect  gem;  glowing  jewels 
on  the  dog-bane  leaf  ;  a  ruby  and  an  emerald  combined. — Prize  packages  on 
the  hazel-bush.  A  clever  piece  of  hocus-pocus ;  no  string,  pin,  nor  glue.  A 
long-headed  clerk  and  her  well-kept  secret.  Caught  in  the  act  at  last.  Pre- 
cious bundles. — The  scouring-grass  and  its  wriggling  spores:  what  a  simple 
pocket-microscope  can  show  us.  A  squirming  legion.  Jumping  for  freedom. 
A  pretty  microscopic  hygroscope. — The  "  scouring-brush "  of  the  Pilgrim 
housewives.  Secret  of  the  bright  tins.  A  mineral  frame  in  a  vegetable  stalk. 
A  tube  of  flinty  silex  which  defies  nitric  acid.  Beautiful  chemical  experiment. 
Geological  significance  of  the  plant. — "How  doth  the  little  busy  bee."  A 
complete  tell-tale  record  of  forage  among  the  flowers.  Queer  fruits  from  the 
bee's  "basket."  Epicurean  and  other  fodder  for  bee-babes;  melons,  tea-boxes, 
oranges,  bombshells,  and  pepper-boxes.  Pollen  eccentricities.  A  pollen  fly- 
trap in  a  milk-weed  blossom,  and  a  decorated  victim. — Butterfly-net  entertain- 
ment; harvest  of  a  few  sweeps  among  the  herbage.  Revelations  of  the  life 
that  peoples  the  grass.  Insects  extraordinary. — A  midnight  walk  and  its  sur- 
prises: sleepy-heads,  nightcaps,  drowsy  fringes,  and  wide-awakes  among  flowers 
and  leaves.  Shuttlecocks  on  blue -bottle  stems.  Dew  diamonds.  Glittering 
fountain  of  "horse-tail"  plant.  The  tearful  jewel-weed.  Titania  and  the  gos- 
samers.— A  little  known  bird-song.  The  yellow-winged  sparrow  and  its  grass- 
hopper music.  The  meadow  grasshopper  and  its  song. — The  well-kept  secret 
of  the  evening  primrose.  The  flowers  by  daylight,  and  what  they  can  show 
us.  Blossom  -  tents  and  tenants:  the  primrose's  protege. — The  spice -bush 
and  its  big-eyed  bugaboo.  Mystery  of  that  folded  leaf.  Rustic  superstition. 
— Musical  beetles.  The  insect  orchestra  and  its  various  instruments.  A 
doughty  fiddler.  A  squeaky  trio  on  the  poplar  branch.  Musical  collars.  The 
pretty  golden-rod  musician. — An  eccentric  precentor  with  a  double  baton  and 
a  ready  whip-lash. — The  club-mosses  and  their  inflammable  spores:  a  fiery 
explosion  in  the  woods.  Fireworks  at  home.  "The  rocket's  red  glare." — 


CONTENTS  XV 

Vagabond  seeds.  Gypsy  weeds  :  the  beggar-ticks,  clot-burrs,  and  stick-seeds 
of  the  woods  and  road-side.  A  "rogue's  gallery"  on  one's  coat-sleeve.  A  few 
tramps  identified.  A  veritable  caltrop.  —  Remarkable  "spider's  nest"  in  an 
old  dress.  "  Dead"  spiders  in  a  wasp-nest.  The  mud-dauber  and  her  ways. 
The  lump  of  mud  on  the  rafters,  and  its  singular  contents.  A  hypodermic  in- 
jection and  a  merciful  sleep. — The  talking  fly;  his  conversation  and  practice. 
— Another  underground  flower  and  its  little  hairy  peanut.  Flowers  for  show 
and  flowers  for  use ;  a  singular  freak  of  a  common  wild  vine.  —  A  bower- 
building  caterpillar.  A  petal-tent  among  the  everlasting  flowers,  and  what  it 
may  contain:  a  testimony  from  the  immortelles. — Ballooning  seeds.  Buoyant 
winged  fruits  with  all  sorts  of  wings  and  parachutes.  Milk-weed  and  thistle 
pompons  for  little  girls.  A  botany  lesson  in  a  cobweb.  The  brownie  dust- 
brushes  of  the  silky  groundsel-tree Pages  89-174 


T 


Hutumn 

HE  "fairy  ring"  mushroom  and  its  compass.  Fastidious  growth  of  fungi. — A 
queer  "bumblebee"  and  a  queer  letter.  A  Bombus  that  catches  "horse- 
flies." "Caught  in  the  act."  A  test  for  sharp  eyes.  Some  entomological 
dissertations  on  flies  and  bees  for  the  benefit  of  a  rustic  naturalist.  A  carnivo- 
rous fly  in  masquerade. — How  to  handle  a  wasp :  the  secret  exposed.  Wasps 
rolled  in  the  fingers  without  danger.  Popular  traditions  disposed  of.  A  re- 
pentant experimentalist.  An  important  "  spell"  which  must  at  least  be  mem- 
orized. Wasps  and  wasps.  A  valuable  and  suggestive  postscript. — Wonders 
of  the  fungus.  Spore  dust.  Appalling  potential  possibilities  in  a  single  puff- 
ball.  Whimsical  choice  in  toadstools  and  mushrooms.  Moulds  and  mildews. 
Fairy  parasols  and  mimic  birds'  nests.  A  chrysalis  and  a  caterpillar  changed  into 
fungus  plants,  and  a  queer  bundle  from  the  Chinese  apothecaries'  shop. — Au- 
tumn pipers:  whistling  tree-frogs,  toads,  and  salamanders.  The  spring  peep- 
ers among  the  trees.  The  brown  dead  leaves  and  their  own  frog.  A  "lizard" 
with  the  voice  of  a  bird. — A  murderous  burdock  and  its  pinioned  chickadee. — 
Puzzling  cocoon  clusters  on  grass  stems.  Nature's  "Jack-in-the-box."  The 
"Jack"  abroad,  and  its  victim.  The  cocoon  mystery  revealed:  a  resurrec- 
tion not  planned  by  the  caterpillar,  and  an  episode  referred  to  pulpit  philoso- 
phers.— Witch-hazel  witchery.  A  fusillade  from  ten  thousand  double-barrelled 
guns  in  the  October  copse.  The  gun  described. — The  salute  from  the  violet. 
Seed-showers  shot  from  violet  pods.  Violet  blossoms  for  the  world  in  April,  and 
others  for  mother  earth  in  October.  A  violet  freak. — A  bewitched  willow  bud: 
a  cone  which  is  not  honestly  come  by.  Why  the  willow  has  no  right  to  a  cone. 
A  magician  with  a  wonder-working  sharp-pointed  wand.  What  the  chickadee 
knows  about  willow-cones.  Other  witchery  among  the  twigs.  A  big  family 
housed  on  a  blackberry  stem. — The  frost-flower.  Flowers  of  three  kinds  on  a 
common  plant,  only  one  of  which  is  generally  seen :  a  showy  flower  with  petals, 
a  flower  with  no  petals,  and  a  flower  of  ice  crystal  prettier  than  either. — Birds 
of  November.  November  bird  songs  and  birds  of  passage.  Snow-birds  and 
buntings  and  "kinglets." — The  ash-tree  and  its  rustling  seeds.  The  remarkable 
"paddle,"  a  prehistoric  hint  of  the  "oar"  in  model  and  timber.  Association 
of  the  ash  and  the  birch  in  nature  and  art.  The  Indian  canoe  and  the  arrow- 
head model.  — Among  the  birds'  nests.  Whimsical  choice  of  building  mate- 
rials. The  vireo's  "  sampler  "  fabric ;  cobwebs,  seeds,  caterpillar- skins,  hor- 


XVI  CONTENTS 

net -nest,  lace,  horse -hair,  and  snake-skins.  "Politician"  and  "preacher." 
A  Scripture  text  from  a  "  preacher's"  nest.  A  few  particular  whims  in  build- 
ing material. — A  snake-skin  specialist.  The  bed  of  snake-skins  in  the  hollow 
tree.  Suggestive  cherry-pits  in  a  deserted  nest. — Autumn's  lingering  wild  flow- 
ers. November's  bouquet.  November's  own  flower.  The  luminous  witch- 
hazel  copse. — A  calendar  garland  of  dandelions.  The  perennial  chickweed 
and  its  winter  blooms.  A  blossoming  conservatory  in  a  filmy  ice  grotto. — A 
winter  bird's-nest.  A  summer  bird-home  newly  furnished  as  a  snug  winter 
resort.  The  field-mouse  nursery. — The  most  marvellous  drill  in  the  world. 
A  horse-hair  gimlet.  Ichneumon  fly  specimens  in  the  winter  woods.  How 
and  why  the  drill  is  manipulated.  A  rival  borer  its  victim.  "  Modern"  in- 
ventions and  patents.  Infringements  on  prehistoric  models. — Winter  ro- 
settes. Symmetrical  leaf  patterns  under  the  snow.  Significant  arrangement 
of  leaves Pages  176-243 


Winter 

TORIES  in  the  snow.  Tell-tale  records  of  birds  and  bead-eyed  folk.  A  mouse- 
race  and  a  nest  in  a  stump.  Deer-mice  at  home. — Autograph  of  the  wild  hare. 
A  singular  discovery.  How  bunny  writes  his  name.  Employment  for  sharp  eyes. 
— The  cocoon  harvest.  Interesting  quest  for  a  winter  walk.  Artful  disguise 
of  cocoons.  City  specimens. — Some  curious  twigs  in  the  winter  woods. 
Witches'  brooms.  Bulby  golden-rod.  Curious  eggs. — Girdler  beetle  and  their 
remarkable  instinct.  Hickory  pruning  extraordinary.  The  pruner's  plans. — 
The  well-named  horse-chestnut;  its  "  horse  "  discovered — hoof,  fetlock,  frog, 
seven  nails,  and  all. — The  "partridge"  as  a  snow-walker.  Bare  summer  feet 
and  winter  snow-shoes.  Snow  burrows  and  budding-holes. — The  "fairy  ring" 
in  the  snow:  strange  snow  writings  of  wind-blown  grass  -  blades. — January 
butterflies.  Winter  outing  in  the  sunny  barn-yard.  The  angle-wings.  Hiber- 
nation of  the  hardy,  world-wide  Antiopa. — A  winged  shower  from  the  tulip- 
tree. — A  snow-burrowing  squirrel.  The  provident  red  squirrel  and  his  happy- 
go-lucky  neighbor.  How  the  gray  squirrel  finds  his  pine-cones  through  the 
deep  snow.  —  Winter  grist  for  the  birds.  Weeds  redeemed.  Wind-blown 
weed-seeds  on  snow.  A  curious  windrow  analyzed. — Those  specks  on  the  snow. 
The  myriad  bird-shaped  scales  of  the  snowy  woods  traced  to  their  source.  An 
innocent  catkin  with  a  trick  of  its  own.  Opening  the  door  for  the  swarm. — 
Living  specks  on  snow.  Snow-fleas  and  their  history.  Entomology  and  rustic 
tradition. — The  basket-carrying  caterpillar.  Its  puzzling  cocoons.  Baby 
basket-makers  and  their  building  whims.  A  patriotic  specimen.  Life  in  a 
hammock.  "  Pulling  the  hole  in  after  him."  The  bag-worm  at  dinner. 
Moored  for  the  winter.  Strange  superstition  of  a  darkey.  The  queer  little 
black  moth. — House-builders  under  water.  Interesting  dwellers  in  every  pond 
and  stream.  Stone  cottages  and  wooden  cabins  of  the  caddis  worm.  A  rare 
mosaic  tube  of  crystal.  Water-proof  cement.  Various  building  designs. 
What  the  rock-fish  knows  about  caddis.  "Around  the  evening  lamp."  The 
"  caddis"  with  which  we  are  all  too  familiar.  A  few  foreign  caddis  houses. — 
The  whirligig  water  beetle.  Its  mazy  dance  at  the  edge  of  the  ice.  Thoreau's 
observations.  A  winter  outing.  How  Gyrinus  "goes  to  bed."  The  dive  to 
the  depths,  with  its  silvery  bubble.  Remarkable  and  unique  dual  powers  of 
vision.  "  Sharp  eyes  "  extraordinary Pages  247-309 


Haunt  of  the  Toad  [see  p.  53]  Frontispiece 
The  Great-eyed  Snapping-beetle  .  vi 
The  "Bull's-eye"  Moth.  Saturnia 

lo xx 

A  March  Landscape I 

The  Calla 2 

The  Earliest  Wild  Flower       ...     3 

Maple-seed  Antics 4 

A  Wintry  Bit 5 

A  Spring  Morning 7 

Peeping  Frogs  —  Cricket  and  Pick- 
ering Frog 

A  Spring  Soloist 

The  Spring  Peeper  in  October    . 

Clicking  Pine-cones 

Jumping  Cones 

A  Cone  in  its  Bed  of  Seeds     .     .     . 

Squirrel  and  Cone 

"  By  the  snow-bank's  edges  cold  "    . 

Anemone  Nemorosa,  Claytonia,  and 

Whitlow-grass 


A  Nook  in  the  Woods — Dutchman's- 
breeches,  Rue  -  anemones,  Liver- 
worts, and  Early  Everlasting  .  .  23 

"  Squirrel  Corn  " 24 

A  Maple-seed  Masquerade      ...  25 

Sprouting  Acorns 26 

Beech  Babes  and  Clover  Infants       .  28 

Antiopa  Butterflies 30 

Musical  Wing  of  Antiopa  ....  31 

Antiopa  Caterpillars 32 

The  "Coral-wing"  Locust     •     •     •  35 

The  Fairy  Shrimp 37 

The  Crackles 38 

The  Brown  Thrasher 39 

The  "Drummer" 40 

The  Meadow  Lark 41 

The  Great  Ragweed 43 

The  Small  Ragweed 44 

Tenacious  Oak-leaves 45 

A  Prehistoric  Vase-maker  ....  46 

21     Tail-piece 47 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Opening     Buds — Linden,     Horse- 
chestnut,  and  Hickory    ....   48 
The  Dogwood  Flower,  from  Bud  to 

Bloom 49 

Puss  Willows 51 

The  Toad  and  his  Bagpipe      ...   53 

Toy  "  Locust" 54 

A  Japanese  Frog  Trio 56 

Azalea  May-apple 57 

May  Woods 58 

Mandrake  May-apple 59 

False  May-apple 60 

The  "Painted-cup" 6r 

,\  Meadow  Glimpse 62 

The  Fringed  Polygala 63 

Tail-piece 64 

The  Ground-nut  Ginseng  ....   65 

Edge  of  the  Woods 66 

Polyphemus  Moth  and  Cocoons   .      .   67 

A  Bewitched  Cocoon 68 

A  Spurious  Brood  from  a  Cocoon  .  69 
The  Ichneumon  at  Work  ....  70 
The  Bombardier  Beetle  .  .  .  .  74 

Among  the  Weeds 75 

A  Grassy  Wood-road 76 

The  Devil's  Coach-horse    ....   78 

The  Crusader  Beetle 79 

The  Asterias  Butterfly 80 

Butterfly  Hunters 81 

Asterias  Caterpillar 83 

Archippus  Butterfly  and  Haunt  .  .  84 
The  Milk-weed  Caterpillar  ...  85 

Tail-piece 86 

Poison-sumach 89 

Poison-ivy 91 

White  Berries  of  Poison-sumach  .  93 
Leaf  of  the  Virginia  Creeper  ...  95 

Awakening  Mummies 97 

Dryocampa  Moth 98 


PAGE 

•  99 

.  100 

.  101 

.  102 

.  103 

.  104 

.  106 

.  107 


The  Gold  Beetle  .... 
Wild  Bind-weed  .... 
A  Country  Road  .... 

Dog-bane 

Dog-bane  Beetle  .  .  .  , 
Hazel  Packet-roller  at  Work 

Hazel  Packets 

The  River-bank       ... 

Scouring-grass 109 

The  Stone  Skeleton  of  the  Scour- 
ing-grass     no 

Scouring-grass  Brush m 

Nasturtiums 112 

Bees  at  Home 113 

Varieties  of  Pollen 115 

A  Victim  of  Milk-weed  Pollen  .     .116 

A  Grassy  Road 117 

Insects  from  the  Sweep-net  .      .      .118 

A  Pocket  Magnifier 120 

Night-flowering  Catchfly  .      .      .      .121 

A  Midnight  Walk 123 

Horse-tail  Plant  in  the  Dew  .  .124 
Blue-bottles  by  Day  and  Night .  .125 
Dew  Diamonds  of  Jewel-weed  .  .127 

A  Summer  Meadow 128 

The  Yellow-winged  Sparrow  .  .  129 
Haunt  of  the  Sparrow  .  .  .  .130 
The  Meadow  Grasshoppei  .  .  .  131 
Spice-bush  with  Folded  Leaves  .  133 
Caterpillar  of  the  Spice-bush  .  .  134 
The  Protege  of  the  Evening  Prim- 
rose   135 

Evening  Primrose 136 

The  Evening  Primrose  Moth  .  .  137 
The  Fiddling  Beetle  (Prionus) .  .  138 
Musical  Beetles  (Saperda)  .  .  .140 

Zebra  Beetle  (Clytus) 141 

A  Titillator 142 

Caterpillar  of  Puss  Moth  ....   144 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Tail-piece 145 

Club-mosses 146 

Explosive  Spores  of  Club-moss  .  .148 
The  Rocket's  Red  Glare  ....  149 
Seed  Tramps  (Biitens)  .  .  .  .150 
Stick-seed  Plants  in  the  Woods.  .  152 

Too  familiar  Seeds 154 

A  Landscape  Note 155 

The  broken  "  Spider  Nest"  .     .     .    157 
NVeb    of   the  Yellow  Argiope    Spi- 
der     158 

Mud-wasp  Nests  in  Garret     .     .     .159 

The  Carnivorous  Fly 163 

A  Sketching  Nook 164 

The  Wild  Bean  Vine 166 

Wild  Bean  Potls,  from  Above  and 

Below  Ground 167 

The  Petal-nest  of  the  Hunter's  But- 
terfly       169 

Winded  Seeds — Cat-tail  and  This- 
tle      171 

Ballooning  Seeds 173 

Seed-tufts  of  the  Groundsel-tree  .  174 
The  Fairy  Ring  Mushroom  .  .  .178 
A  Mimic  Bumblebee  (Laphria  fly)  .  181 

A  Country  Road 182 

The  Brown  Wasp 183 

Nest  of  the  Polistes 184 

Wasp  Drones  and  Neuters  on  Gold- 
en-rod     185 

Meadow  Landscape i?6 

The  Chestnut-burr  Fungus    .     .     .188 

Fairy  Parasols 189 

The  Chrysalis  Fungus  ....  190 
A  Chinese  Fungus  Bundle  .  .  .  191 

Autumn  Landscape 193 

The  Tree-toad  (Hyla  versicolor}  .  195 
The  Burdock  as  a  Bird-trap  .  .  .197 
Parasitic  Cocoons  on  Grass-stem  .  199 


The  Ichneumon  Fly  and  its  Victim  200 

Tail-piece 201 

Witch-hazel  Catapults       ....   203 

Jack  in  the  Box 204 

Violet  Pod  expelling  Seeds  .  .  .205 
Handleaf  Violet  (  Viola  cucullata')  .  206 
The  Willow-cone  Gall  ....  207 
The  Blackberry-stem  Gall  ...  209 
The  Frost-weed,  Flower  and  Au- 
tumn Crystal 210 

November    Birds —  Snow  -  bunting 

and  Kinglet 214 

Paddle-seeds  of  Ash     .     .     .     .      .216 

Birch  and  Canoe 217 

Birch-leaf  and  Arrow-head    .     .     .218 

Bird-nest  Remnants 219 

A  Vireo's  Nest 220 

The  "  Preacher's  "  Text  .     .     .     .222 
The  Snake-skin  in  the  Grass      .     .   225 

Witch-hazel  Blossoms 226 

Dandelion 228 

Chickweed 229 

A  Mouse  Nest  on  Smilax  Spray      .   230 

Feathers  for  the  Nest 231 

A  Winter  Snuggery 232 

Mouse- work 233 

Ichneumon    Flies  {Thalessa    litna- 

tor} 235 

The  Fly  on  the  Wing 236 

The    Pigeon   Tremex  ( Tremex   co- 

lumha] 237 

A  Pair  of  Pincers 239 

Winter    Rosette    of    the    Evening 

Primrose 240 

The  Rosette  of  the  Moth  Mullein  .   241 
Pepper-grass  and  English  Plantain 

Rosettes 242 

The  Thistle  Rosette 243 

A  Mouse  Race 247 


XX 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


A  Mouse  Nest  in  old  Stump       .     .   249 
The  Wild  Hare's  Autograph      .     .251 

Bunny's  Footprint 252 

Winter  Cocoons 253 

Caterpillar  of  Cecropia  Moth      .     .255 
Cecropia    Cocoon    and    Emerging 

Moth 256 

Curious  Winter  Twigs      .     .     .     .258 

Spiny  Rose-galls 259 

The  Girdler  Beetle  at  Work       .     .   261 

A  Winter  Glimpse 262 

Horse-chestnut  Bloom      ....   263 
The    Hoof,    Fetlock,    and    Seven 

Nails 264 

The    Ruffed    Grouse    as    a   Snow- 
walker  266 

Feet    of    Grouse    in    Summer   and 

Winter 267 

The  "  Fairy  Ring  "  in  the  Snow     .   269 

Winter  Butterflies 271 

A  Winter  Outing 272 

The  Antiopa 273 

The  Tree-tulip 274 

The  Seed-shower  from   the  Tulip- 
tree  275 


PAGE 

A  Snow  Burrower 277 

A     Raid    on    the    Red    Squirrel's 

Hoard 279 

Winter  Weeds  and  Winter  Birds     .  281 

Curious  Meadow-crumbs  ....  282 

Seed-pods  of  Indian  Mallow      .     .  283 

Snowy  Woods 285 

Birch-seed  Catkins 287 

Birch  Catkin-scales  Magnified    .     .  288 

Snow-fleas 289 

Winter  Woods 290 

Tail-piece 291 

A  Curious  Swarm  from  a  Cocoon   .  292 

Baby  Basket-makers 293 

The  Basket  Moored  for  the  Win- 
ter      294 

The  Basket-carrier  at  Home      .     .  297 
The  Basket-carrier  Moth .     .     .     .298 

Haunt  of  the  Caddis 300 

Caddis  Cases 301 

"  Around  the  evening  lamp  "      .      .  302 

Foreign  Caddis  Houses    ....  303 

Whirligig  Beetles    ......  305 

The  Beetle  Diving  with  Bubble      .  307 

The  Sharp-eyed  Gyrinits .     .     •  308 


— -^^l^&t&EC 


HOSE  who  are   really  awake  to  the  sights  and 
sounds  fiohich  the  procession  of  the  months  offers 
them,  find  endless  entertainment  and  instruc- 
tion.    Yet  there  are  great  multitudes  -who  are 
present  at  as  many  as  threescore  and  ten  performances, 
without  ever  really  looking  at  the  scenery,  or  listening  to 
the  music,  or  observing  the  chief  actors. ' ' — O.  W.  HOLMES. 


THE    FIRST    BLOSSOM 


March  loth 

HAT  is  the  first  token  of  returning  spring? 
It  is  now  almost  the  ides  of  March.     The 
winter  still  rules  the  landscape,  and  the  fact 
i*/;\        may  yet  be  emphasized  by  a  snow-storm  or  a  bliz- 
zard, for  the  almanac  gives  Boreas  a  few  days  more 
for  mischief. 

But  the  breath  of  spring  is  in  the  air,  even  though 
the  meadows  be  still  white  with  lingering  snows.  Al- 
most any  day  now  we  may  listen  confidently  for  the  fine 
prophetic  hum  of  the  first  honey-bee.  For  the  bees 
have  felt  the  vernal  prophecy,  and  have  heard  whispers 
of  sweets  and  blossoms  in  the  air.  Here  is  a  little 
swarm  of  them  sipping  at  the  dark  stain  of  sap  on  the 


SHARP    EYES 


trunk  of  a  sugar  -  maple,  while  an  eager  brood  have 
sought  the  wood -pile,  crowding  each  other  in  their 
eager  tipple  from  the  sweet  fermented  exudation  on 
the  end  of  the  white -birch  log. 

But  they  are  not  all  to  be  found  here.  Even  as  we 
watch  the  gathering  swarm  at  the  birch-log  feast  a  new- 
comer speeds  swiftly  past  our  ear  with  an  especially 
eager  hum.  There  is  no  loitering  at  the  wood-pile  this 
time.  Over  the  barn -yard  and  garden,  and  across  the 
white  field  beyond,  we  can  readily  trace  its  flight  until 
lost  in  the  twiggy  mist  of  the  swamp  beyond.  Another 
and  another  follow  in  its  trail,  and  if  we  choose  to 
wait  and  watch  with  patience  we  may  soon 
witness  the  returning  procession,  each  winged 
forager  with  his  saddle-bags  overflowing  with 
golden  grist.  What  a  vision  of  summer  in 
those  rounded  yellow  thighs!  Blossoms? 
Blossoms?  But  where? 
The  ground  is  covered  with 
^^f  snow,  and  flaky  ice  incrusts 

the  borders  of  the  pools,  and 
^m/i^f*  yet  here  'ls  our  veritable  summer 

bee  laying  up  its  store  of  pollen. 
It  is  now  some  weeks  before 
the  wood   bouquet  of  anem- 
ones  and  bloodroots  may  be 
sought    with    confidence,  but 
the  honey-bee   knows  where  to 
find  a  pioneer  blossom  that  is  fast 
going    to    seed  when   these   wood 
blooms  first  show  their  faces.     Even 
to   us  who   know  the   bee's   secret, 
how  often  does  he  give  us  the  hint 


THE    FIRST   BLOSSOM 


for  the  search  in  the  bog  before  we  had  thought  of  a 
courier  of  spring?     No  matter,  then,  how  cold  or  wintry 
the  landscape,  go  now  in  early  March  to  the  wet  low- 
lands, and  get  your  first  vernal  greeting  from  the  lowly 
hermit  of  the  bog.     Welcome  the  prophet  that 
pierces  the  snow,  the  pioneer  that  lifts  the  bar- 
riers of  ice  to  tell  us  of  the  message  he   has 
received    from    mother- earth,  long    before    the 
wood  flower  hears  it  in  the  south  wind,  or  the 
lisp  of  the  bluebird  tells  it  to  the  trees !     What 
matters  it  that  our  purple-mottled,  hooded  blos- 
som is  not  graced  with  perfume  nor  blest  with 
a  poetic  name?     What  though  it  may  not  ap- 
pear   to    advantage   in    a    button -hole?      The 
skunk-cabbage  hood  is  as  much  entitled  to  the 
NaM      name  of -flower  as  its  close  relative  the  beautiful 
calla,  while  the  naturalized  European  bees  have 
long  welcomed  it  to  their  posy,  and  recognized 
the  humble  "prophet  not  without  honor 
save  in  its  own  country." 


MAPLE-SEED    REVELS 


March  loth 

HAT  a  universal  expression  of  joyous  an- 
ticipation, what    murmurings   of    gladness 
might   we   not   perceive  in  the   air  during 
the  next  few  weeks  were  our  human  senses 
sufficiently    delicate    and     inspired  !       What 
breathings    from    unfolding    catkins    of   alder 
and    willow,   and    from    swelling    buds    every- 
where!    What  tidings  from  the  myriad  quick- 
ening seeds  down  against  the  sod  !     Only 
here  and    there   an   occasional   in- 
dividual   more    conspicuous 
than    the    rest    tells    the 
story  of  the    universal 
rejoicing.     Here  is 


MAPLE-SEED    REVELS  5 

this  dancing  party  of  maple  samaras  on  the  snowy 
lawn,  for  instance.  Is  this  an  exhibition  of  mere  bo- 
tanical germination,  a  simple  seed  that  has  sent  out 
its  baby  root  into  the  soil,  and  in  so  doing  has  been 
obliged  to  take  this  singular  position?  Is  it  not  as 
truly  an  allegory  of  the  universal  rapture  of  nature 
in  this  season  of  new  birth  and  awakening  which  is 
now  at  hand  ?  No ;  these  are  not  mere  maple  seeds 
that  have  felt  the  quickening  power  of  the  south  wind, 
but  a  troop  of  happy  children  literally  standing  on  their 
heads  in  glee.  What  thoughts  are  brewing  in  those 
heads,  with  their  fur-lined  caps?  What  deep  plans  for 
a  future  maple  grove  out  there  upon  the  lawn  ? 

Every  spring  their  legions  repeat  these  same  express- 
ive revels,  and  yet  it  is  only  as  we  chance  to  see  them 
relieved  against  a  late  March  or  April  snow  that  we 
ever  know  of  their  pretty  antics  here  in  the  grass. 


THE   SPRING    PEEPERS 

March  jjfh 

LMOST  any  bright,  genial  day  now 
we  may  listen  for  the  first  note  of 
the  spring  peepers,  the  tiny  piping  frogs 
that  wet  their  whistles  in  the  lowlands, 
and  whose  shrill  chorus  at  the  water's 
edge  will  soon  usher  in  the  April  twilights, 
and  keep  the  stars  dancing  on  the  palpitating 
ripples  until  the  dawn.  What  would  our  New  England 
spring  be  without  this  faithful  music- from  the  bog? 
How  many  of  our  sweet-voiced  vernal  birds,  the  favor- 
ite theme  of  so  many  of  our  poets,  might  not  listen 
with  profit  at  the  swelling  throat  of  the  little  Hylodcs, 
whose  pure  strains  have  voiced  the  advent  of  spring 
without  the  tribute  of  a  sonnet,  or  even  an  appreci- 
ative quatrain  —  a  voice  in  the  wilderness,  so  far  as 
any  worthy  recognition  in  poetic  literature  can  show ! 
Truly  has  Burroughs  said  that  in  Europe,  where  this 
swamp  music  is  unknown,  such  a  chorus  as  that  which 
goes  up  from  our  ponds  and  marshes  would  certainly 
have  made  an  impression  on  the  literature. 

There  are  a  number  of  these  sprightly  piping  frogs 


j 


~1 


. 


and  spring  croakers  which  take  to  the  water — or  rise 
from  the  mud  —  even  before  the  ice  has  melted,  each 
successively  filling  with  music  the  brief  period  of  its 
nuptial  season,  during  which  the  pellucid  eggs  are  de- 
posited in  the  shallows.  But  the  first  voice  that  now 
breaks  the  winter  silence,  and  gives  the  key-note  to  the 
choir  which  soon  shall  follow,  is  pretty  sure  to  be  that 
of  the  Hy lodes,  whose  bird -like  whistle  is  well  known 
to  every  dweller  in  the  country,  even  though  the  iden- 
tity of  the  singer  has  been  a  life-long  mystery. 

Perhaps   this   first   isolated  "  peep "  is   borne   to    us 


SHARP    EYES 


across  the  withered  rushes  or  cat- tails  as  we  skirt  the 
borders  of  the  swamp,  or  perhaps  from  some  hollow 
nook  in  the  woods,  where  the  melting  of  a  snow-drift 
has  left  a  glassy  pool  among  the  leaves,  or  even  from 
some  boggy  bay  at  the  brink  of  the  stream — "pJice, 

p/iee,  phce,  plicc  " — ut- 

-         tered     with     brief 
pauses,  and  in  the  note 

E,  four  octaves  above 
middle    C,   or    there- 
.     abouts.     Not    that    I 


THE    SPRING    PEEPERS  9 

have  ever  stood  in  the  bog,  with  a  tuning-fork  in  hand, 
to  test  the  matter  scientifically,  but  in  my  frequent  ef- 
fort to  mimic  the  pure,  shrill  tone  with  my  own  inade- 
quate whistle,  an  effort  which,  patiently  continued,  has 
more  than  once  evoked  a  lively  response  from  a  sus- 
picious though  silent  pool  in  the  spring  woods,  I  have 
discovered  that  no  pucker  of  mine  can  quite  produce 
the  pitch  of  this  fine  water  whistle  of  the  Hylodes,  or 
Pickering's  frog.  He  is  usually  from  one  to  three  notes 
above  me,  while  in  the  matter  of  quality  he  leaves  me 
far  behind.  Thus  the  limit  of  my  whistle  is  C,  while 
the  peep  of  the  Pickering's  frog  begins  at  E  above,  as 
I  now  recall  it,  the  crescendo  being  given  on  F.  This 
seems  to  be  the  approximate  key  of  the  vernal  song. 
What  influence  the  peculiar  exuberance  of  the  season 
may  exert  on  that  impassioned  voice  I  know  not,  but  I 
do  know  that  the  mysterious  peep  which  I  occasionally 
hear  from  the  autumn  trees — for  our  Pickering's  frog  is 
a  "tree-toad"  at  this  season  —  never  seems  to  possess 
the  peculiar  spring  quality. 

I  have  said  that  he  wets  his  whistle.  Let  us  see.  For 
even  though  we  approach  near  enough  to  get  a  good 
look  at  the  singer,  it  would  probably  be  difficult  to  iden- 
tify him  from  the  pointed  nose  and  the  two  tiny  bulg- 
ing eyes  that  are  all  he  permits  to  be  seen  above  the 
water;  nor  even  these  for  long,  unless  we  are  very  wary. 

But  we  are  safe  in  assuming  that  we  have  heard  the 
Hylodes,  probably  Hylodes  Pickeringi ;  or,  if  not,  we 
have  needlessly  confounded  him  with  another  related 
singer,  the  cricket -frog — Hylodes  gryllus  of  the  earlier 
naturalists,  but  now  designated  by  Baird  as  Acris  crepi- 
tans,  and  popularly  known  as  the  "  Savannah  cricket." 
These  are  the  two  rival  marsh  peepers,  and  it  is  a  "toss 


IO  SHARP    EYES 

up  "  which  you  shall  chance  to  hear  first  in  your  late 
winter  rambles;  and  if  they  are  ever  to  be  satisfactorily 
fixed  in  the  memory  by  their  songs,  it  must  be  at  this 
season,  when  an  isolated  solo  is  among  the  possibilities. 
In  the  teeming  din  of  the  April  chorus  their  disentan- 
glement is  a  hopeless  task.  But  the  "  cricket,"  with  his 
shrill  rattling  pipe,  easily  plays  the  second  whistle,  and 
there  is  not  the  slightest  reason  for  confounding  it  with 
that  of  the  Hylodes.  The  pure,  unbroken  tone  is  from 
the  yellow  throat  of  the  Pickering,  and  when  once  fa- 
miliarized will  not  be  forgotten.  All  those  other  efforts 
which  fail  to  meet  that  standard  of  purity  may  be  cred- 
ited to  the  comical  little  harlequin  with  the  pretty  mot- 
tled tights  which  I  have  coaxed  out  of  the  water,  and 
placed  where  his  pert  figure  can  be  seen,  side  by  side 
with  his  rival.  Whatever  confusion  there  may  be  in  the 
vocal  identity  of  the  two  frogs,  there  is  no  confounding 
them  when  seen  out  of  the  water.  The  Pickering  Hy- 
lodes is  yellowish  in  tone,  more  or  less  mottled  with 
darker  tints  of  the  same,  the  depth  of  the  color  varying 
with  different  individuals. 

What  a  contrast  to  the  "  cricket,"  with  his  olive-green 
coat  splashed  with  black  and  red,  and  the  large  black 
spots  rimmed  with  white  upon  the  sides !  In  the  water, 
with  nothing  visible  but  the  tips  of  their  noses  and  pro- 
jecting eyes,  and  their  voices  alone  to  recommend  them, 
the  Pickering  peeper  has  the  advantage;  but  he  may 
well  take  a  back  seat  on  dry  land  when  he  appeals  alone 
to  the  eye. 

The  markings  of  the  "  cricket  "  vary  in  prominence  in 
different  individuals,  occasionally  being  almost  obsolete; 
but  they  may  always  be  found  upon  close  examination, 
and  are  an  unmistakable  means  of  identification. 


THE   SPRING    PEEPERS 


I  I 


Every  one  who   lives   in   the  rural  districts  should 
know  these  two  musical  messengers  of  the  spring,  and 
with  the  help  of  the  portraits  I  have  given  they 
may  be  easily  indentified.     Note  the 
diminutive   size,  exactly  given    in 
the    illustration,  neither   species 
being  more  than  one  inch,  or  at 

most  one  and  a  half  inches,          /.     \        \  •",/ 

long    in    sitting    posture  — 
"crickets"  indeed !    Note 
also    the    peculiar 
disk-shaped  pads 


at  the  tips  of  the  toes 
of   the    Pickering,  espe- 
cially of  the  front  feet,  a. 
peculiarity  which  distinguishes 
this  genus  of  frogs  (Hy lodes]  and 
that  of  the  Hyla,  or  common  tree- 
toad,  in   which   latter  both   pairs  of 
feet  are  equally  equipped,  a  character- 
istic which  to  the  naturalist  tells  much 
of  the   habits  of  his   specimens,  for   it 
means  that  any  frog  so  provided  is  built 
for  climbing,  and  that   most  of  its  life 
is   spent   among  bushes  and    trees.     It 
has  long   been   believed   that    the  tree- 


12  SHARP    EYES 

toads  spend  the  winter,  like  other  frogs,  buried  in  the 
mud  at  the  bottom  of  the  ponds  and  marshes ;  but 
this  is  now  discredited  by  many  observers,  who  have 
disclosed  them  during  the  winter  beneath  logs,  and 
in  other  places  far  from  the  water.  It  is  true  that 
on  the  first  approach  of  spring  weather  they  seek  the 
pools  to  deposit  their  eggs,  and  this  supreme  function 
is  the  impulse  of  their  universal  song  at  this  period, 

The  Pickering  frog  is  the  champion  climber  of  his 
kind,  even  outvying  the  tree -toad,  or  Hyla.  The  shrill 
voice  from  the  bog  is  quite  as  likely  to  proceed  from 
some  perch  among  the  tall,  withered  rushes  as  from  the 
rippling  water,  while  Dr.  C.  C.  Abbott  mentions  having 
found  one  of  the  agile  peepers  at  the  top  of  a  tulip- 
tree,  sixty  feet  from  the  ground. 


THE   CLICKING   CONES 

March  24th 

HILE  the  skunk-cabbage  is  pierc- 
ing the  snow  in  the  swamp,  and 
the  maple  seeds  are  all  on  end 
with  the  good  news  which  has 
come  to  them  apparently  through 
the  quickened  sod,  the  pine-cones  in 
the  tree-tops  are  firing  their  salutes  to 
the  first  spring  breeze. 

As  early  as  February  I  have  heard  the  pitch- 
pine  woods  merry  with  the  clicking  cones,  and 
seen  the  fluttering  showers  of  winged  seeds  fly- 
ing out  upon  the  snow.  To  be  sure,  our  botanies  mention 
no  such  early  ripening  of  the  cones,  the  second  autumn 
after  flowering  being  the  stated  season  for  the  opening 
of  the  scales  and  release  of  the  seeds.  But  a  pitch-pine 
wood  in  any  sunny  day  in  early  spring  is  a  merry  spot 
nevertheless.  Both  the  Austrian  and  the  Scotch  pines, 
the  introduced  species  of  our  city  parks,  are  even  more 
lively  and  communicative.  The  sharp  click  of  the  Aus- 
trian pine-cone  may  be  distinctly  heard  two  hundred 
feet  from  its  source,  while  the  hubbub  which  we  may 
hear  beneath  a  Scotch  pine-tree  on  a  warm  March  day 
sometimes  amounts  to  a  bedlam. 

It  is  a  frequent  pastime  with  me  in  my  winter  walks 


to  gather  and  bring  home  a 
pocketful    of    these    various 
cones  with  a  view  to  witness- 
ing their  curious  antics  in-doors.     There 
is    no   telling   just   what    any    particular 
cone  will  do  when  once  placed  upon  your  par- 
lor mantel.     They  are  full  of  individual  whims, 
and  occasionally  show  an  exhibition  very  much 
like   hocus-pocus.     Here  is  one,  for  instance,  from  the 
pitch-pine.     Yesterday,  when  gathered,  it  was  trim  and 
compact,  without  a  crack  upon  its  surface ;  and  now,  as 
though   bewitched   in  the  night,  it  has  blossomed    out 
into  a  rose-like  form  with  open  flaring  scales,  occupying 
three  times  its  former  space,  and  is  quietly  resting  in  a 
bed  of  a  hundred  buff-colored  filmy  seeds.     And  there 
is  another  that  has  rolled  half-way  across  the  shelf,  and 
every  few  moments  takes  a  new  turn  in  a  most  restless 
fashion.    Yonder  by  the  vase  we  see  two  of  them  quietly 
rolling  over  as  though  seeking  a  more  comfortable  posi- 
tion, while  an   impetuous   specimen    in   their   midst    is 
evidently  determined  to  be  rid  of  its  restless  associates, 
for  with  a  sharp  click  it  clears  the  group  at  a  jump  and 


bounds  out  across  the 
floor.      Of  course   all 
these   whims    have    a 
very  simple    explana- 
tion if  we  care  to  study 
the  matter  philosoph- 
ically.    The   cones   gath- 
ered in  early  winter  are  usu- 
ally the  most  demonstrative,  for 

their  scales  are  generally  intact  and  so  closely  glued  to- 
gether at  the  surface  that  they  are  not  likely  to  yield 
without  something  very  like  an  explosion,  especially  in 
the  artificial  warmth  of  the  house.  The  outward  ten- 
sion of  these  scales  during  the  process  of  drying  is  a 
truly  powerful  force.  When  one  of  the  scales  becomes 
detached  while  held  in  the  hand,  it  produces  a  smart 
stinging  sensation,  and  when  that  springing  scale  chances 
to  be  on  the  lower  side  of  the  cone,  while  the  same  is 
at  rest,  the  force  is  sufficient  to  produce  a  lively  leap. 

In  the  case  of  the  rolling  cones  and  the  silent  speci- 
men with  the  bed  of  seeds,  it  may  be  inferred  that  the 
scales  had  been  previously  rent  asunder — tardy  ripen- 
ers  of  last  autumn,  perhaps,  that  failed  to  open  suffi- 
ciently to  shed  their  seeds.  The  others  were  doubtless 


I 6  SHARP    EYES 

once  fully  opened  cones  which  had  become  closed  again 
from  absorption  of  moisture  from  rain  or  snow,  for  any 
one  of  these  flaring  open  specimens  will  assume  its  orig- 
inal form  if  immersed  in  water,  opening  again  gradually 
as  the  evaporation  is  more  and  more  complete.  The 
opening  of  the  cone  begins  at  the  base,  each  scale  over- 
lapping its  fellows  spirally  in  several  tiers  to  the  apex; 
as  the  scale  loosens  it  turns  outward,  and  the  pressure 
of  even  one  scale  being  suddenly  released,  a  series  of 
clicks  is  likely  to  follow,  as  each  one  sets  free  its  neigh- 
bor. 


THE   SQUIRREL'S   BOTANY 
LESSON 

March  24th 

CHAPTER  might  be  written  upon 
the  beautiful  symmetrical  arrange- 
ment of  the  pine-cone  scales.  They 
are  well  worth  careful  study.  The  squirrel 
may  here  teach  us  a  beautiful  lesson  in  bot- 
any. How  well  he  knows  this  spiral  arrangement 
of  the  scales,  and  the  order  in  which  nature  intended 
they  should  open ! 

"The  squirrel  has  the  key  to  this  conical  and  spiny 
chest  of  many  apartments,"  says  Thoreau.  "  If  you 
would  be  convinced  how  differently  armed  the  squirrel 
is  naturally  for  dealing  with  pitch-pine  cones,  just  try  to 
get  one  open  with  your  teeth.  He  who  extracts  the 
seeds  from  a  single  closed  cone  with  the  aid  of  a  knife 
will  be  constrained  to  confess  that  the  squirrel  earns  his 
dinner. 

"  The  plucking  and  stripping  of  a  pine-cone  is  a  busi- 
ness which  he  and  his  family  understand  perfectly.  He 
does  not  prick  his  fingers,  nor  pitch  his  whiskers,  nor 
gnaw  the  solid  cone  any  more  than  he  needs  to.  ...  He 
holds  in  his  hands  a  solid  embossed  cone  so  hard  it  al- 
most rings  to  the  touch  of  his  teeth.  He  knows  better 


i8 


SHARP    EYES. 


than  to  cut  off  the  top  and  work  his  way  downward, 
or  to  gnaw  into  the  .sides  for  three-quarters  of  an  inch 
in  the  face  of  many  armed  [spiny]  shields.  He  whirls  it 
bottom  upward  in  a  twinkling,  and  then  proceeds  to 
cut  through  the  thin  and  tender  bases  of  the  scales,  and 
each  stroke  tells,  laying  bare  at  once  a  couple  of  seeds. 
Thus  he  strips  it  as  easily  as  if  its  scales  were  chaff,  and 
so  rapidly,  twirling  it  as  he  advances,  that  you  cannot 
tell  how  he  does  it  till  you  drive  him  off,  and  inspect 
his  unfinished  work." 


THE    EARLIEST    WILD 
FLOWER 

March  jist 


T  is  now  within  a  few  hours  of  the 
1st  of  April,  and  already  the  har- 
binger spring  blossom  has  bloomed 
in  the  woods  perhaps  a  week  or 
more  ago.  What  name  shall  we 
give  it?  What  is  the  earliest  blos- 
som— the  earliest  New  England  blos- 
som ?  True,  there  is  the  skunk-cab- 
bage pioneer  down  in  the  bog,  which 
we  found  some  three  weeks  ago — though 
only  after  the  bees  had  given  us  the  hint  and  already 
discovered  it  several  days  in  advance  of  us — and  which 
has  now  seen  its  best  days.  But  by  common  human 
consent  this  plebeian  does  not  count,  even  though 


2O  SHARP    EYES 

the  bee  has  long  settled  the  question  of  its  qualifica- 
tions. It  is  a  flower,  perhaps,  but  not  a  blossom,  so 
says  the  sentimental  fiat.  Upon  what  fairer  shoulders, 
then,  does  its  mottled  mantle  fall? 

It  were  a  rash  commentator  who  would  approach 
this  question  idly  in  the  face  of  the  host  of  natural- 
ists, botanists,  spring  poets,  and  "  careful  observers," 
each  with  his  array  of  facts  and  dates  and  witnesses, 
his  unimpeachable  note -book,  and  his  especial  floral 
favorite  for  the  vernal  honors.  The  question  has  been 
satisfactorily  decided  by  each  of  them  ;  and  by  a  wis- 
dom born  of  experience  the  subject  is  avoided  in  mix- 
ed botanical  councils  as  one  prone  to  incite  to  con- 
fusion if  not  to  riot.  The  dogged  pertinacity  and 
unreasonableness  of  the  brethren  on  this  matter  are 
past  belief.  I  never  knew  a  botanist  or  spring  poet 
to  be  convinced  of  his  error  on  the  subject  of  the  ear- 
liest flower,  and  yet  the  truth  of  the  matter  is  as  plain 
as  A,  B,  C.  I  long  ago  settled  the  question  absolutely 
and  irrevocably.  The  authorities  who  differ  from  me 
are  all  wrong.  And  what  an  array  of  floral  candidates 
they  have  put  in  the  field  !  There  is  Bryant,  who 
voiced  the  claims  of  the  "  yellow  violet,"  which  he  ob- 
served in  April  "blooming  by  the  snow-bank's  edges 
cold,"  and  which  he  further  apostrophizes : 

"  Of  all  her  train  the  hands  of  Spring 
First  plant  thee  in  the  watery  mould." 

But  the  yellow  violet  has  never  since  fulfilled  the 
poet's  confidence.  Then  there's  the  trailing  arbutus, 
another  favorite  of  the  poet,  which  has  so  often  been 
found  in  bloom  at  the  edge  of  the  snow  or  even  be- 


neath  it.     Bryant,  in  his 
"  Twenty-seventh      of 
March,"  pictures  it  blos- 
soming  in    company   with   the 
liverwort,  some  days  earlier  in 
date   than   his    yellow  violet, 
while   in    his   "Winter   Piece" 
it   is    the  "wind-flower"  that 
heralds  the  spring.    There  are 
many    sponsors    for    the 
Claytonia,    or    spring 
beauty,  the    Dutch- 
man's-breeches 
(Dicentra    cucul- 
laria ),    the    rock- 


flower  (Saxifraga  Virginicnsis), 
wild -ginger  (Asartim  Cana- 
dense),  anemone  (A.  nemorosa), 
rue-anemone,  dwarf-everlasting 

(Antennaria  plant agini folia),  bloodroot,  and  the  tiny 
whitlow -grass  (Draba  verna\  Many  of  them  have 
been  gathered  in  the  snowy  woods  of  March  in  New 
England,  and  some  weeks  earlier,  of  course,  in  more 


22  SHARP    EYES 

southerly  States.  The  writer  once  found  a  cluster  of 
arbutus  in  bloom  in  Connecticut  in  February,  and  has 
frequently  gathered  the  rock- flower  and  everlasting  in 
the  last  of  March  and  early  April.  Burroughs  has  oc- 
casionally happened  upon  the  Claytonia  and  wild -gin- 
ger as  his  first  spring  blossoms.  Which,  then,  shall 
bear  the  honor  as  the  avant-courrierc?  The  fact  that 
you  discovered  the  arbutus  on  April  ist  in  1889,  and 
the  Claytonia  a  week  earlier  in  1890,  proves  nothing 
as  to  the  comparative  natural  chronology  of  the  two 
plants.  There  can  be  no  prescribed  dates  in  our  floral 
calendar.  The  test,  of  course,  must  be  confined  to  a 
single  season.  In  the  year  1889  the  early  flowers  were 
nearly  two  weeks  ahead  of  ordinary  schedule  time  all 
along  the  line  in  New  England,  and  careful  records  go 
to  show  that  a  margin  of  a  full  month  is  not  impossible 
during  a  long  period  of  years. 

No  ;  it  is  not  the  yellow  violet,  nor  the  Claytonia,  nor 
the  squirrel -corn,  nor  the  arbutus,  nor  the  bloodroot, 
nor  the  anemones  that  first  follow  the  swamp -cabbage 
and  the  silver- maple  tassels;  and  if  the  rock -flower,  or 
everlasting,  or  whitlow -grass,  or  wild -ginger  surprises 
you  in  your  walk  in  the  March  woods,  accept  it  as  a 
witness  that  your  true  quest  is  at  hand,  for  they  have 
all  paid  homage  to  the  hepatica — 

"  whose  just  opened  eye 
Is  blue  as  the  spring  heaven  it  gazes  at, 
Startling  the  loiterer  in  the  naked  groves 
With  unexpected  beauty ;  for  the  time 
Of  blossoms  and  green  leaves  is  yet  afar" — 

for  that  "just  opened  eye"  would  doubtless  have  greet- 
ed you  several  days  previous  had  you  chanced  this  way. 


THE    EARLIEST    WILD    FLOWER 


When  I  picked   my  arbutus 
in    February,  and    when    Bur- 
roughs and    Dr.  Abbott   gath- 
ered their  Claytonias — the 
latter   in 


February — we 
could  doubtless 
all   have   found  our 
hepatica  too;  and  I 
am  equally  confi- 
dent that  my  early 
March  blooms  of  rock- 
flower    and   everlasting 
were  never  so  early  as  to 
have  stolen  a  march  on 
the  liverworts. 


24  SHARP    EYES 

If  the  open  winter  lures  any  wood  blossom  to  "  open 
its  eye,"  it  will  surely  be  the  liverwort,  even  as  this 
flower  occasionally  anticipates  the  spring  in  ordinary 
winter  weather.  I  have  before  me  a  letter  from  an  au- 
thority who  picked  them  under  a  foot  of  snow  on  De- 
cember 9th,  and  this,  too,  in  a  winter  not  notably  mild. 

Truly,  then,  it  is  upon  the  hepatica  that  the  varie- 
gated mantle  of  the  swamp -cabbage  flower  has  fallen. 
Look  at  its  purple-mottled  leaf  and  be  convinced. 


QUICKENING  SEEDS 
AND  SEEDLINGS 

April  7th 


^      FEW    weeks     ago    a 
kindly    snow    upon 
\        the  lawn  revealed  to 

us  the  odd  pranks 
of  the   maple   seeds,  which    ap- 
peared to  be  standing  on  their 
heads  in  glee  upon  the  white  car- 
pet.   Without  the  snow  to  set 
them  off  so  sharply,  we  never 
had  noticed  them  even  as  now,  in 
April,  we  walk  the  woods,  bring- 
ing chaos  and  destruction  upon 


26 


SHARP    EYES 


whole  broods  of  merrymakers  like  themselves,  though 
scarcely  as  moderate  in  their  doings.     Let  us  look  at 
that  maple  frolic  once  more.     How  has  it  progressed? 
"On  with  the  dance!     On  with  the  dance!"  seems  to 
have  been  the  cry  during  all  these  weeks,  until  now  the 
woods  are  full  of  their  wild  capers.     It  is  no  mere  quiet 
and    contained    exuberance    now,  but    a    veritable    bal 
masque,  with  reel  and  rigadoon,  in  which  no  two  of  the 
participants  seem  to  be  of  the  same  mind  in  whim  or 
costume  or  etiquette,  while  half  of  them  have  literally 
lost  their  heads,  and  the  other  half  their  characters,  so 
that  I  fancy  their  own  mother-tree  above 
them  would  scarcely  recognize  the  flutter- 
ing progeny  that  she  sowed  upon  last 
summer's  breeze.    They  are  indeed  a  *4''' 

droll  and  whimsical  lot,  this  troop 
beneath  the  maple-tree.     Surely 
this  pretty  revelry  is  more  than 
seeming.     It  is  not  easy  to  con 
sider  it  as  a  mere  exhibition  of 
germinating  seeds.    To  the  poet 
and  the  philosopher  it  brings  its 
most    precious    message. 
What    to    the    botanist? 
Considered  as  mere  quick- 
ening   seeds,    they    offer 
many  interest- 
ing facts  to  the 
student;    and 
inasmuch     as 
they  illustrate 
the  beautiful 
plan    of  seed- 


QUICKENING    SEEDS    AND    SEEDLINGS  2/ 

germination  in  general,  it  will  repay  us  to  learn  the  les- 
son which  they  teach. 

Here  in  this  single  group  we  find  the  baby  maples  in 
every  condition  of  growth,  from  the  bursting  samara 
standing  on  its  head  against  the  dry  leaves,  through  all 
stages  of  vegetation,  to  the  tiny  tree  with  a  half-dozen 
or  more  perfect  leaves.  A  few  of  the  infants  still  re- 
tain their  telltale  winged  caps,  and  are  thus  easily  iden- 
tified;  but  the  group  contains  a  number  of  intermediate 
forms  between  this  and  the  leafy  specimens  which,  but 
for  their  company,  would  hardly  be  recognized.  Here 
in  the  foreground  is  a  winged  individual  which  has 
matured  its  root  and  stem,  and  stands  alone,  getting 
itself  in  position  for  a  more  ambitious  spread  above, 
while  directly  above  it  are  two  others  which  are  throw- 
ing off  their  swaddling-clothes.  All  of  these  are  plainly 
maples;  but  what  of  the  three  which  keep  them  com- 
pany on  either  side,  and  the  flapping  specimens  which 
wave  their  double  green  banners  above  them  ?  Farther 
on  we  see  a  tiny  pair  of  true  maple  leaves  appearing 
between  these  little  flags;  and,  farther  still,  the  unmis- 
takable foliage  of  young  maple -trees.  As  we  look  at 
the  various  forms  we  may  very  naturally  ask  with  Gray 
in  his  botanical  lesson,  "  Was  the  plantlet  formed  in  the 
seed  something  as  the  chick  is  formed  in  the  egg  during 
the  process  of  incubation,  or  did  it  exist  before  in  the 
seed  ready  formed?  To  decide  this  question  we  have 
only  to  inspect  a  sound  seed,  which  in  this  instance  re- 
quires no  microscope  nor  any  other  instrument  than  a 
sharp  knife.  We  find  within  the  seed  the  little  plant- 
1-et  already  formed,  and  something  else  —  namely,  a  pair 
of  leaves  [strap -shaped]  borne  on  a  stemlet,  all  snugly 
coiled  up  within  the  protecting  seed  coat." 


Nor  is  this  a  condition  that 
has  just  taken  shape  on  the  ap- 
proach of  spring.     It  existed  pre- 
cisely as   now  even  while  these 
winged  broods  were  green  and  grow- 
ing on  the  tree  last  summer.     Our 
cradled  maples  could  have  been  disclosed 
then  as  well  as  now. 
And  what  is  true  of  the  maple  is  true  of 


seeds  in  general ;  the  young  plant  exists  ready 
formed  in  the  seed,  often  protected  between  two 
//  so-called  seed  leaves  or  cotyledons.  We  may  see 
/  it  prettily  illustrated  in  the  pea-nut  or  in  the  bean 
by  carefully  separating  its  halves  (cotyledons),  the  plant- 
let  being  concealed  between  them,  while  in  the  point 
upon  the  outside  we  see  the  radicle  ready  to  strike  root. 
So  it  is  in  our  maple.  First  the  rootlet  seeks  the  soil ; 
this  brings  our  seed  on  end.  Then  the  stem  grows. 
The  seed  leaves  now  swell  and  burst  the  shell,  which 
soon  falls,  leaving  only  an  interior  membrane  covering 
the  cotyledons.  This,  in  turn,  is  soon  ruptured  and  cast 
off,  while  the  banners  then  unfurl,  and  the  tiny  pair  of 
true  maple  leaves  soon  appear  between  them. 


QUICKENING   SEEDS   AND   SEEDLINGS  2Q 

It  is  a  matter  of  natural  curiosity  among  the  uniniti- 
ated why  there  should  be  this  diversity  between  the 
early  and  later  leaves  of  the  plant.  These  cotyledons 
are  not  properly  leaves,  but  storehouses  of  food,  and 
their  office  is  to  nourish  the  infant  plant  until  its  root  is 
sufficiently  grown  to  absorb  nourishment  from  the  soil. 

It  is  not  alone  in  the  maple  that  this  pretty  masquer- 
ade is  to  be  seen  in  the  spring  woods.  The  little  green 
things  among  the  dried  leaves  everywhere  are  full  of 
interest.  Here  is  the  acorn  with  its  determined,  rosy, 
pulsing  radicle,  making  eager  head -way  towards  the 
mould,  while  its  swelling  seed  leaves  are  bursting  their 
bonds.  The  baby  beeches  are  odd  affairs,  with  the  sweet 
kernel  of  the  former  nut  now  unfolded  from  its  snug 
quarters,  and  transformed  to  its  two  fan-shaped  green 
nurse  leaves  with  the  tiny  beech -sprout  between  them. 

We  have  all  heard  of  four- leaved,  five -leaved,  and 
many-leaved  clovers,  but  it  is,  perhaps,  not  generally 
known  that  many  of  the  clover  tribe  start  out  in  life  as 
one-leaved  clovers,  though  they  seem  quickly  to  repent. 
I  do  not  happen  to  know  just  which  member  of  the  clo- 
ver family  it  was  that  sat  for  the  portrait  I  have  given ; 
possibly  the  medic.  But  there  was  a  whole  brood  of 
them,  each  with  its  pair  of  cotyledons,  its  experimental 
single  leaf,  that  invariably  shrank  away,  like  a  wayward 
child,  as  far  as  possible  from  its  outraged  younger  broth- 
er that  seemed  berating  it  for  its  degeneracy. 


BUTTERFLY   SERENADE 


NSECT  hunters  the  world  over  will  need 
no  introduction  to  the  butterfly  whose 
portrait  is  given  above  —  the  cosmopoli- 
tan Vanessa  Antiopa  of  the  books,  the 
"  yellow  edge  "  of  the  American  boy's 
cabinet,  the  "  Camberwell  Beauty  "  of 
England,  known  to  every  country  boy 
as  the  first  butterfly  that  flits  in  the  early  spring,  and  a 
challenge  for  a  chase  at  any  time.  But  we  must  make 
our  acquaintance  with  Antiopa  anew,  for  he  has  evident- 
ly kept  a  secret  from  most  of  us  all  these  years.  It 
evidently  has  something  more  to  say  for  itself  which 
few  of  us  have  heard. 

Here  is  a  matter  for  our  boys  to  look  into.  A  Mis- 
sissippi naturalist  writes  to  our  Government  Entomo- 
logical Department  :  "  Vanessa  Antiopa  has  a  '  voice.'  I 
heard  it  in  Europe,  in  Lorraine,  from  two  mating  An- 


A    BUTTERFLY    SERENADE 


tiopas  on  a  beech  stem,  walking  around  each  other, 
and  agitating  their  wings,  with  oft-repeated  cries."  This 
was  new  to  our  Government  entomologist,  Mr.  Riley, 
and  subsequently  he  received  the  following  letter  sub- 
stantiating the  fact  from  an  entomologist  in  Bedford, 
England  : 

"  The  sound  made  by  this  butterfly,  without  doubt,  is  the  ex- 
pression of  certain  emotions,  be  it  of  anger  or  of  love ;  but  since 
it  is  not  made  by  the  breath  we  cannot,  I  think,  consider  it  more 
than  elementary  voice.  It  may  be  that 

"'in  Loraine  ther  notis  be 
Full  swetir  than  in  this  countrie,' 

for  English  entomologists  are,  I  believe,  generally  of  opinion  that 
the  sound  which  butterflies  make  is  caused  by  their  rubbing  their 
wings  together  in  their  ardor.     The  Vanessa  Antiopa  is  only  a 
migrant    to    this    country 
(Great   Britain),  and    sel- 
dom seen,  but  it  breeds  in 
Europe    and    Northern 
Asia,  commonly  along  wil- 
low bordered  streams.     I 
have  a  few  specimens  from 
the  banks  of  the  Po,  and 
from  one  of  these  I  have 
detached  the  fore  wing. 
Along  the  lower  edge  of 

this  I  notice  a  smooth  projecting  vein,  b,  which,  viewed  from  the 
direction,  a,  with  a  strong  magnifier,  is  seen  to  be  flattened  and 
notched  like  a  file  for  not  quite  half  its  length.  This  vein,  when 
the  wings  are  expanded,  rests  on  another  projecting  vein  on 
the  hinder  wing  in  such  a  manner  that  when  the  upper  wing  is 
moved  the  notched  vein  rubs  over  this  vein,  as  the  bow  rubbed 
with  resin  works  on  the  violin  string. 

"  Let  any  one  now  take  a  dried  specimen  of  this  butterfly  from 
the  cabinet,  and  grasping  the  fore  wing  by  its  front  edge,  rub  it 
backward  and  forward  over  the  hinder  one,  so  that  the  bases 


meet,  but  being  at  the 
same  time  careful  not  to 
crumple   the  wings,  and 
so  produce  a  false  sound. 
He  will  then,  without  fail, 
hear  the  sweet  secrets  of  An- 
tiopa,  which  are  beautiful  and 
delicate    in    expression,  recalling 
the  trickle  of  a  brooklet." 

Now  that  may  be  all  very  well 
for  the  European  Antiopa,  but  it 
won't  work  on  the  American  in- 
sect. I  sometimes  have  fancied 
that  I  could  hear  a  certain  faint 
squeak  from  the  moving  wings  not 
only  of  the  Antiopa  but  also  of 
the  Semicolon  butterfly — a  sound 
distinct  from  the  mere  rustle  of 
the  wing.  But  if  our  insect  does 
serenade  with  its  wings,  as  stated, 

its  method  is  not  as  above  described.  I  don't  know 
from  experience  just  how  the  European  Antiopa  is  built, 
but  there  is  no  such  "  file  "  to  be  found  upon  the  wing 


A   BUTTERFLY   SERENADE  33 

of  the  American  species,  at  least  in  the  twenty  or  more 
specimens  that  I  have  examined ;  nor  can  the  "  sweet 
secrets"  or  the  "trickle  of  a  brooklet"  be  coaxed  out 
of  any  cabinet  specimen  of  mine. 

I  have  several  times  heard  of  the  pretty  talk  of  this 
butterfly.  Who  shall  tell  us  more  about  it?  Here  is 
a  chance  for  my  young  entomologist  to  distinguish 
himself.  What  is  this  so-called  "voice"  of  the  yellow 
edge?  Does  it  talk  wing-fashion,  after  the  stridulous 
manner  of  the  grasshopper  tribe  ;  or  with  its  wings  and 
legs  together,  as  the  locust-fiddlers  do;  or  with  its  head, 
like  some  of  the  beetle  tribe ;  or  with  its  air-drum,  like 
the  cicadas?  Of  course  some  of  these  methods  are 
hardly  to  be  considered  in  relation  to  the  anatomy  of 
a  butterfly;  but  so  far  as  an  examination  of  our  Amer- 
ican insect  would  seem  to  show,  any  one  of  them  is 
certainly  as  plausible  as  the  explanation  quoted,  which 
may  explain  in  England,  but  does  not  in  America. 

The  matter  may  be  easily  studied.  The  butterflies 
are  now  frequenting  the  tender  foliage  of  the  willows 
by  the  brook,  and  in  a  few  weeks  the  first  brood  of 
their  black  spiny  caterpillars  will  literally  weigh  down 
the  slender  branches  as  they  strip  the  leaves  and  leave 
their  cast-off  skins  fringing  the  twigs.  Hundreds  of 
the  caterpillars  may  be  gathered  in  a  few  moments,  and 
the  walls  of  your  collecting- box  will  soon  be  hung 
closely  with  chrysalids,  nearly  all  of  which  will  have 
been  transformed  into  butterflies  within  a  period  of  a 
fortnight. 

There  are  two,  or,  I  am  led  to  think,  even  three  of 
these  caterpillar  broods  during  the  year;  the  butterflies 
from  the  last  in  autumn  surviving  the  winter. 


THE    CORAL-WING    LOCUST 


April  1 4th 

HE  conspicuous  insects  are  few 
and  far  between  at  this  early 
season,  and  are  mostly  confined 
to  the  Antiopa  and  related 
Semicolon,  Comma,  and  Red 
Admiral  butterflies.  But  for 
two  weeks  past,  almost  any 
bright  sunny  day  in  the  woods 

we  may  have  surprised  an  agile  bit  of  life  that 
starts  up,  perhaps  from  an  unseen  source  at  our  feet 
in  the  wood  path,  and  speeds  like  a  rosy  streak  across 
the  dry  leaves,  its  flight  accompanied  with  a  sharp  rat- 
tle, which  can  be  distinctly  heard  for  two  or  three 
rods.  Though  you  note  the  precise  spot  where  the 
rosy  gleam  seems  to  meet  the  ground  beyond,  it  will 
take  a  sharp  eye  to  locate  it  definitely  until  its  blos- 
soming wings  once  more  flash  in  flight.  "  A  tiger- 
moth  ! "  I  exclaimed,  when  I  first  saw  it,  as,  with  eager 
net,  I  captured  the  prize,  which  proved  to  be  only 
the  coral -winged  grasshopper,  or  more  correctly,  lo- 
cust. There  can  be  no  mistake  as  to  the  "voice"  of 


THE    CORAL-WING    LOCUST  35 

the  Coral-wing,  though  it  is  not,  to  my  mind,  satisfac- 
torily accounted  for  by  the  naturalists.  I  have  shown 
him  in  the  act  of  flight  as  I  recall  him,  though  merely 
from  my  memory.  Only  the  large  under-wings  bear 
the  bright  color,  and  these  are  folded  like  a  fan  be- 
neath the  brown  wing  covers  when  the  insect  is  at 
rest.  Above  him  I  have  pictured  another  locust,  which 
frequently  keeps  him  company  in  the  spring  woods, 
and  they  are  a  pretty  and  complementary  pair  together, 
the  latter  being  of  the  brightest  green,  and  though 
without  rattle  or  even  rustle,  as  agile  as  a  moth  upon 
the  wing,  and  in  flight  it  might  easily  deceive  a  tyro 
entomologist. 


. 


THE   WATER   FAIRY 


April  i 


OW  is  the  time  to  go  fairy-hunting.  Even 
earlier  in  the  month  we  might  have 
sought  them,  but  their  stay  is  short,  and 
we  must  not  miss  another  week,  for  in 
a  few  days  more  they  will  have  disap- 
peared. 

How  well  I  remember  the  first  discovery  of  my  fairy ! 
It  was  about  the  middle  of  April,  some  ten  years  ago. 
The  snow  and  freshet  pools  had  barely  dried  in  the 
woods,  and  while  dredging  in  one  of  them  for  micro- 
scopical animalcules  I  brought  to  the  surface  a  creature 
such  as  I  had  never  known  to  exist.  It  was  about  an 
inch  and  a  half  in  length,  and  of  the  consistency  of  jelly. 
Its  broad  head  was  decorated  with  two  widely  separated 
black  eyes,  its  sides  were  fringed  with  scarlet  plumy  fins, 
and  its  rosy  tail  ended  in  a  long  fork. 

I  quickly  turned  my  attention  to  the  pool,  and  found 
it  swarming  with  these  filmy  bodies  in  all  stages  of 
growth.  In  its  element  the  beautiful  creature  was  near- 
ly transparent.  Beneath  the  shadow  of  a  floating  leaf  it 
was  almost  invisible,  but  as  it  emerged  into  sunlight  the 
body  seemed  suddenly  shot  through  with  opalescence 
of  mother-of-pearl,  and  was  thus  mainly  revealed.  This 
iridescence  played  continually  through  the  diaphanous 
body  in  various  tints  of  green  and  pink  a,s  the  fairy 


THE   WATER    FAIRY  37 

darted  or  glided  about,  and  certain  sunny  spots  in  the 
pool  were  distinctly  pearly  lustred  by  their  numbers. 
It  was  like  a  strangely  fashioned  palpitating  opal  dis- 
solving before  one's  eyes,  and  the  incessant  waving  ac- 
companiment of  the  gliding  feathery  scarlet  fringe  by 
which  the  swimmer  propelled  itself  was  beautiful  be- 
yond description.  I  brought  home  several  specimens 
in  a  bottle  for  my  aquarium,  but  they  were  too  fragile 
for  such  treatment,  and  all  perished  in  a  few  moments. 

I  made  a  little  sketch  in  my  note-book  from  memory, 
simply  to  aid  me  in  identifying  my  fairy.  It  is  only  a 
hint,  but  with  my  descriptive  memoranda  made  at  the 
time  I  had  little  difficulty  in  naming  my  specimen.  It 
is  the  Fairy  Shrimp  (Branchippus  vernalis},  under  which 
title  my  reader  may  find  out  all  about  the  beautiful 
creature.  Those  who  live  in  the  country  should  not 
miss  a  fairy- hunt  during  the  coming  week.  The  Bran- 
chippus is  a  gem  indeed  for  any  aquarium. 


APRIL   BIRDS 

April  2ist 


>HE    advent    of 
true  April  days 

is  not  to  be  welcomed  by  the  almanac 
—  the  season  when  the  sod  gives  forth 
its  tinctured  incense,  when  the  "April 
showers  "  bring  odorous  responses  from 
roots  and  quickening  seeds;  when  the  rocks 
and   bark   of  trees   and  even   the  decaying 
leaves  have  a  breath  and  a  perfume.     "  It 
begins,"   says    Burroughs,  "  when    the   par- 
tridge drums;  when  the  hyla  peeps;  when 
the  shad  start  up  the  rivers,  and  the  grass  greens  in  the 
spring  runs;  and  it  ends  when  the  leaves  are  unfolding 
and  the  last  snow-flake  dissolves  in  mid-air." 

The  dandelion  has  been  accepted  as  the  first  floral 
"pledge  of  blithesome  May."  What  is  the  true  feather- 
ed pledge  of  April  ?  Authorities  differ.  With  Emerson, 


"April's  bird, 
Blue-coated,  flying  before  from  tree  to  tree," 

is  of  course  the  bluebird ;  but  he  came  in  early  March, 
or  perhaps  has  been  with  us  all  winter. 

With  Burroughs  it  is  the  robin,  "  brisk,  vociferous, 
musical ;  dotting  every  field  and  larking  it  in  every 
grove.  He  is  easily  atop  at  this  season,  as  the  bobo- 
link is  a  month  later.  The  tints  of  April  are  ruddy 
and  brown  —  the  new  furrow  and  the  leafless  trees  — 
and  these  are  the  tints  of  its  dominant  bird."  But 
with  me  it  is  not  the  robin  that  is  associated  with  the 
'•  brown  furrows  "  and  the  early  planting.  It  is  his  con- 
gener, the  mocking  brown  thrasher,  with  his  "  plough 
it !  plough  it !  hoe  it !  hoe  it !"  and  whose  first  counsel 
is  timed  with  those  swelling  dog-wood  buds,  whose  full 
bloom  is  the  "  corn  sign  "  of  the  New  England  farmer, 
and  the  accepted  signal  for  the  corn -planting. 

But  we  need  not  quarrel  with  the  commentators  as 
to  the  one  anointed  April  bird.  Each  has  his  pet  pro- 
tege, the  child  of  fond  association,  for  there  is  in  truth 
a  whole  troop  of  "April's  birds  "  to  choose  from,  though 
the  great  bird  choral  has  yet  to  come.  Almost  any 
genial  day  now  we  may  confidently  listen  for  the 
"  cheerily,  cheerily,  cheer  up ;  cheerily,  cheerily,  cheer 


SHARP    EYES 


up"  of  the  robin;  the  "pu- 
rity, purity"  of  the  blue- 
bird; the  "phebe,"  the 
"  conkaree  "  of  the  redwing 
in  the  bog,  to  say  nothing 
of  many  other  so-ngs  which 
the  poets  have  similarly 
translated.  Every  April 
lover  will  recall  the  "  quick, 
quick,  quick,  quick  "  of  the 


• 


I 


flicker    in    the    budding 

woods;  the  "spring  o'  the 

year,"  or  "  I  see,  I  see  you," 

from   the  meadow -lark  in 

the  distant  field,  or  the  "sweet, 

sweet  bitter,"  and  we  know  not 

what  else,  of  the  song-sparrow. 

But  when  it  comes  to  the  real 
"  first    pledge "  of  April    among 


APRIL    BIRDS 


the  birds,  I  am  prepared  to  stand  by  the  testimony  of 
Hosea  Biglow, 

"  First  come  the  blackbirds,  clatt'rin'  in  tall  trees, 
An'  settlin'  things  in  windy  congresses." 

The    clamor   of   the   noisy  grackles   in    the   pines  is 
easily  the   most    characteristic   and    conspicuous   early 


bird  sound  in  New  England,  and  April 
would  indeed  scarce  be  April  without 
them.  But  there  still  remains  another 
April  pledge  from  the  birds,  a  note  too 
fine  for  the  ear  that  is  content  with  the 
blackbird's  carnival,  but  nevertheless  as 
faithful  to  the  season  as  it  is  the  rar- 
est, most  subtle,  and  thrilling  of  its  bird 
music. 

How   vividly   is    it    revived    in    that    line   of  Trow- 
bridge's, 

"The  partridge  beats  his  throbbing  drum." 

There  is  no  bird  sound  like  it,  this  soft,  murmurous 
tattoo  of  the  grouse  in  the  bare,  freshening  woods. 
It  is  in  harmony  with  the  first  heart-throbs  and  ac- 
celerating life  of  exuberant  awakening  nature  —  the 
quickening  seeds,  the  flowing  sap,  the  swelling  buds — 


42  SHARP    EYES 

"  Puff!  puff!  puff!  puff!  puff!  p-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r."  In  a 
paper  in  Harper 's  Magazine  I  have  had  something'  to 
say  about  this  drum  of  the  partridge,  but  I  surely 
cannot  let  this  "  April "  pass  in  my  natural  history 
calendar  without  again  referring  to  the  bird,  partic- 
ularly as  I  should  thus  miss  a  grand  opportunity  of 
sending  a  host  of  wide-awake  boys  on  its  track  to 
learn  its  well-kept  secret;  for  this  mysterious  "drum" 
has  apparently  never  yet  been  seen  by  mortal  eye.  I 
have  shown  my  bird  as  I  once  saw  him  at  close  range, 
only  that  his  wings  of  course  were  in  a  whirr  of  mo- 
tion. He  had  his  drum  with  him  too,  and  the  muffled 
roll  filled  the  woods.  Where  did  he  keep  it?  Here  is 
the  testimony  of  a  few  of  the  prominent  witnesses  who 
have  seen  him  in  the  act.  You  can  take  your  choice, 
and  then  go  and  find  out  for  yourself. 

A  host  of  ornithologists  claim  that  the  bird  beats 
with  its  wings  "  the  log  "  on  which  it  stands. 

Brewer  affirms  that  the  wings  beat  both  the  log  and 
the  sides  of  the  bird. 

Audubon  says  he  strikes  his  sides  after  the  manner  of 
the  rooster.  [An  act  which  the  rooster  never  performs.] 

Burroughs  says  the  drum  is  "  its  own  proud  breast." 

Wilson  says  the  bird  beats  nothing  but  the  air,  and 
Burroughs  later  comes  to  the  same  opinion. 

Bryant  thinks  the  same. 

Thoreau  and  Flagg  and  the  writer  assert  that  the 
wings  are  struck  above  the  back  if  anywhere. 

All  these  authorities  differ  also  as  to  the  position 
which  the  bird  assumes  when  drumming;  some  affirm- 
ing that  he  stands  upright,  as  a  drummer  ought,  others 
that  he  stoops  to  a  horizontal  position.  Come,  boys, 
which  of  you  can  give  us  the  facts  ? 


RAGWEED   PITH 


April  28th 

STROLLER    in    waste 
places  or  weedy  corners, 
either   during   the   winter 
or  now,  before  the  copses  are 
clothed   in  foliage,  may  well 
p.iuse  a  moment  among  the 
skeleton  thickets  of  the 
great    ragweed,   in    its 
perfection    the    tallest 
of    our   weeds.      One 
April,  a  few  years  since, 
I    found    a    stalk 
eighteen  feet  four 
inches    in    height 
by    actual    meas- 
urement.    But    it 
•^      is  not  with  a  tape- 
line  this  time  that 
-'  *     I  ask  you  to  tarry. 
:?-^        "Ambrosia,"  the 
^87    plant   is  called  in 


44 


SHARP    EYES 


the  botanies — "food  of  the  gods" — "an  ill-chosen  name 
for  these  worthless  and  coarse  weeds,"  says  Dr.  Asa 
Gray.  I  confess  that  this  indictment  seemed  perfectly 
just,  until  I  chanced  to  discover  the  contents  of  their 
dried  stems.  What  other  of  the  weeds  can  show  a 
marrow  which  comes  so  near  to  immateriality  as  this 
of  ragweed?  A  pith  which  I  will  venture  to  say  is 
lighter  and  more  buoyant  than  any  vegetable  tissue 
of  like  bulk.  It  seems  almost  to  float  as  it  falls  from 
your  hand,  while  its  cross  fracture,  with  its  iridescent 
sheen,  certainly  brings  reminders  of  the  rainbow  in  the 
realm  of  the  gods. 


. 

THE  ^* 


TENACIOUS          v-^ 
OAK-LEAVES 


April  28th 

/? 

SB  T  is  not  easy  to  get  at  the  secret  of  the  oak 

1    in  retaining  its  leaves  throughout  the  whole 
___ Bj    calendar,  for  here,  in  late  April,  are  seen  the 

f         J&A_ 

I  white  and  red  oaks  still  defying  the  winds. 
Now,  if  the  oak-leaf  were  constructed  on 
the  plan  of  the  button-wood  leaf,  whose  stem  grows 
like  a  protecting  cup  over  the  bud  of  the  following 
year,  we  could  readily  frame  a  theory;  but  it  does  noth- 
ing of  the  kind.  These  persistent  oak-leaves  are  placed 
beneath  the  new  buds,  while  those  of  the  button -wood 
fell  in  early  autumn,  exposing  the  tender  bud  to  the 
winter  storms. 

If  we  examine  the  white- oak  branch,  we  shall  find 
that  many  of  the  leaves  have  been  twisted  off  by  the 
wind,  leaving  only  a  short  remnant  of  a  stem  beneath 
the  buds;  and  even  these  adhere  so  tenaciously  as  to 
leave  a  fresh  green  scar  upon  removal.  They  yield 
only  as  they  are  pushed  off  by  the  swelling  bud  above 
them. 


THE 


BROWNIE-JUGS   AND 
THE   BROWNIE 


April  28th 

LL    through   the  winter   months 
we  might  have  seen  our  brown- 
ie-jugs, as   large   as   hazel-nuts, 
neatly  secured  to  various  twigs 
in  the  thickets,  but  I  have  pass- 
ed them  until  I  could  bring  the 
reader  face  to  face  with  the  lit- 
tle potter  that  is  responsible  for 
them. 

He  has  been  in  hiding  during  the 
cold  months,  and  was  to  be  known 
only  by  his  works;   but  now  he  is 
out  again,  and  will  soon  make  his 
first  jug  after  the  pattern  that  his 
ancestors  have  handed  down  to  him ; 
•'  for  long  before  the  human  vase-maker 
fashioned  his  clay  upon  the  wheel  these 
little  jugs  were  being  turned  out  by 
Eumenes  fraterna.    Such  is  the  name  his 
historians  have  given  him. 

Jugs  serve  a  variety  of  uses,  but  none  of  human  fash- 
ioning is  ever  used  for  precisely  such  purposes  as  these 
of  Eumenes i  which  serve  as  a  receptacle  for  treasure,  a 
larder,  and  a  home  as  well. 


THE    BROWNIE-JUGS   AND   THE    BROWNIE  47 

I  have  seen  many  a  jug  catalogued  in  a  bric-a-brac 
sale  that  did  not  have  nearly  so  interesting  a  history  as 
one  of  these  clay  pots  of  the  vase -maker  wasp.  It  is 
made  of  sand  and  yellow  mud.  When  completed,  the 
wasp  lays  an  egg  within  it,  and  then  proceeds  to  pack 
it  full  of  tiny  green  caterpillars,  each  of  which  she  has 
paralyzed,  though  not  killed,  by  a  stab  of  her  sting. 
The  opening  of  the  vase  is  then  plugged  up  with  a 
mud  cork.  Presently  the  egg  hatches  into  a  little  grub, 
that  feeds  for  the  rest  of  its  days  on  the  living  store 
of  food. 

By  the  time  the  supply  has  run  short,  the  grub  has 
become  a  chrysalis,  and  soon  pushes  out  the  plug,  and 
appears  a  full-grown  wasp,  like  its  parent,  and  it  will 
make  as  pretty  a  jug  as  the  one  it  leaves  the  first  time 
it  tries. 


UNFOLDING   BUDS 

May  <jt 


UR  literature  of  nature  contains  nothing, 
it  seems  to  me,  more  happy,  as  a  tranr 
script  of  the  pageant  of  the  vernal  sea- 
son in  New  England,  than  that  quaint 
calendar  in  the  provincial  tongue  of 
Hosea  Biglow,*  "Sunthin*  in  the  Pastoral  Line,"  from 
which  the  following  is  quoted. 

What  mirrored  truth  is  in  this  picture: 

"The  maple  crimsons  to  a  coral  reef; 
The  saffern  swarms  swing  off  from  all  the  willers, 
So  plump  they  look  like  yaller  caterpillars ; 
Then  gray  hoss-chestnuts'  leetle  hands  unfold, 
Softer'n  a  baby's  be  at  three  days  old." 

Here  is  another  complete  and  exquisite  touch  : 
"  Young  oak  leaves  mist  the  side-hill  woods  with  pink." 
*  The  Biglow  Papers.     By  James  Russell  Lowell. 


UNFOLDING    BUDS 


49 


Where  is  the  artist  who  would  lay  his  canvas  beside 
it  as  a  talisman  to  memory  alone  ?  With  the  begin- 
ning of  May  the  woods  are  full  of  color;  there  is  a  re- 
flection of  autumn  in  the  tender  foliage  tints;  there  are 
bursting  buds  and  budding  leaves  that  mist  the  hills 
with  pink  and  white ;  others  that  mist  the  gray  thicket 
with  yellow  aureole ;  the  shad-tree  blooms  and  the  flow- 
ering dog-woods  hover  like  white  entangled  clouds  in 
the  distant  woods. 

Those  winter  buds  which,  we  have  seen  for  months 
on  the  bare  twigs  are  now  unfolding  in  endless  variety, 
showing  with  what  wondrous  art  the  embryo  leaves 
and  blossoms  have  been  packed  away  in  their  warm 
winter  snuggeries.  No  two  seem  designed  on 


the  same  plan  or  unfold  in  the  same  manner. 
The  linden  leaves  unfold  in  drooping  conical 
pendants,  each   sheltering  the   one  below 
it.     The  tulip-tree  has 
a  beautiful  method 
peculiarly  its  own. 


5O  SHARP    EYES 

Look  at  this  great  satiny  hickory  bud  swollen  almost 
to  the  size  of  a  magnolia,  while  another  near  by  has 
burst  into  a  mimic  fleur-de-lis,  with  golden  drooping 
scales,  disclosing  the  folded  leaves  and  catkins  which 
were  to  be  found  last  January  had  we  sought  them. 
Any  one  who  has  watched  the  development  of  the 
horse-chestnut's  varnished  bud,  with  young  leaves  en- 
tangled in  the  cobwebby  festoons  of  soft  brown  wool, 
will  appreciate  Lowell's  apt  allusion  above  quoted, 
while  the  bud  of  each  separate  shrub  or  tree  in  turn 
will  reveal  some  interesting  individual  trait. 

Let  us  look  at  the  development  of  this  dog- wood 
bud.  Even  as  early  as  last  September  it  was  to  be 
found  upon  the  tips  of  the  twigs,  making  ready  for  the 
next  year's  spread  of  bloom  even  before  its  surrounding 
leaves  had  thought  of  falling.  Later  in  the  autumn 
it  had  increased  in  size,  and  the  bare  November  tree 
left  them  all  exposed  precisely  as  we  saw  them  all  win- 
ter. In  February  they  begin  to  swell,  and  the  common 
belief  is  that  the  large  white  blossom  is  at  this  time 
forming  within  eager  to  burst  its  bounds.  Not  so.  In 
April  these  four  purple  bud-scales  finally  open,  disclos- 
ing the  cluster  of  tiny  flower-buds  at  the  centre,  but  no 
sign  of  the  four  great  petals,  for  the  dog-wood  blossom 
is  not  a  blossom  ;  it  is  an  assemblage  of  blossoms,  the 
so-called  white  petals,  being,  in  truth,  no  petals  at  all, 
but  only  singularly  modified  leaves,  or  what  the  botany 
calls  a  corolla- like  involucre  enclosing  the  true  flowers. 

It  is  generally  supposed  that  the  flowering  dog-wood, 
like  other  true  blossoms,  has  simply  thrown  off  its  win- 
ter bud -scales,  and  bloomed  from  within;  but  if  we 
carefully  examine  these  white  heart-shaped  leaves,  we 
find  that  no  such  thing  has  taken  place.  The  bud  scales 


UNFOLDING   BUDS  5! 

have  not  been  cast  off,  as  is  usual  with  buds,  but  have 
simply  grown,  that  purple  puckered  tip  so  noticeable 
in  each  of  the  mimic  petals,  being  the  identical  hol- 
low scale  which  formerly  wrapped  the  cluster  of  flowers 
at  the  centre,  the  white  floral  leaves  being  simply  a  con- 
tinuance of  their  growth  from  beneath,  having  carried 
them  far  from  their  original  position,  while  the  true 
flowers  at  the  centre  now  bloom  and  prepare  for  the 
cluster  of  scarlet  autumn  berries. 


THE  TOAD'S  BAGPIPE 


May  i  2th 


ARLY  in  icy  March  the  swamps 
sounded  their  first  welcome  to  spring 
in  the  shrill  peep  of  the  Hylodes,  or 
whistling  frogs,  and  from  week  to 
week  since  new  broods  of  peepers 
have  come  and  gone,  filling  their  brief  nuptial  pe- 
riod with  their  own  peculiar  music,  until  the  late  April 
marshes  were  palpitating  with  their  teeming  din. 

Among  this  later  chorus  we  might  have  heard  the 
lingering  peepers,  the  occasional  "  t-r-r-r-r-r-r-rdt  " 
of  the  gray  tree -toad,  the  harsher  note  of  the  green 
clucking  frog,  the  spasmodic  wavering  croak  of  the 
black- cheeked  wood  frog,  and  a  certain  strange  shrill 
rattle,  which  we  may  catch  occasionally  even  now,  but 
whose  animated  source  I  have  not  yet  satisfactorily  as- 
certained. It  is  a  peculiarly  high,  vociferous,  exclama- 
tory trill,  with  an  ascending  scale  and  a  high  crescendo, 
and  may  be  imitated  by  means  of  that  noisy  toy  with 
which  most  boys  are  familiar,  and  which  is  called  a  "lo- 
cust." As  we  used  to  make  it,  it  was  composed  of  the 
tip  of  a  bottle  neck,  or  a  small  tin  spice-box  with  the 
bottom  removed,  having  a  piece  of  kid  tightly  stretched 


THE    TOAD'S    BAGPIPE 


53 


across  its  opening.  A  doubled  horse -hair  was  knotted 
to  the  centre  of  this  small  drum-head,  and  the  slip-loop 
at  its  other  end  passed  round  the  tip  of  a  small  smooth 
stick,  on  which  a  groove  was  made  to  receive  it.  When 
this  groove  was  wet  and  the  drum  revolved  in  the  air 
the  "  locust  "  spoke  for  itself,  to  the  joy  of  the  small 
boy  even  if  to  the  nuisance  of  every  one  else.  If  this 
drum  be  held  firmly  in  one  hand  and  the  stick  in  the 
other — the  horse-hair  being  very  tightly  drawn — a  quick 
twist  of  the  handle,  accompanied  with  a  tighter  pull  on 
the  hair  will  almost  exactly  re-  produce  the  frog 

song  in  question.    I  hope  some  day  to  decoy  and 

identify  my  mysterious  frog    '  by  this  device, 


54  SHARP    EYES 

though  I  suspect  he  may  turn  out  to  be  an  old  friend 
who  has  been  making  sport  of  me  all  these  years.  The 
little  toy  may  be  made  to  mimic  a  number  of  the  frogs 
and  toads. 

But  the  early  musicians  are  now  forgotten.     A  new 
singer  has  come  upon  the  scene,  and  his  mellow  noc- 
turne in  the  twilight  marshes 
brings    a    message    unknown 
to  his  predecessors.     This  is 
^•^       no  shrill  peep  that  stirs  your 
blood    and    sets    your    ears 
a-tingle,  no   bubbling   rattle 

or  vibrant  croak  that  cries  " qui  vive"  to  your  eager 
senses,  but  a  drowsy  drool  that  brings  your  feet  to  loit- 
ering in  the  deepening  dusk,  and  whose  distant  music 
from  the  swampy  lowlands  lulls  you  on  your  pillow.  It 
is  to  me  the  sweetest  sound  in  nature,  the  faithful  chos- 
en voice  of  the  twilight,  one  of  the  most  characteristic 
attributes  of  late  spring,  and  yet,  like  the  sprightly  wel- 
come of  the  hylodes  which  ushers  in  the  vernal  season, 
it  still  remains  unsung  by  our  poets,  or  if  occasionally 
acknowledged  the  true  singer  never  gets  the  credit. 

Who  will  immortalize  in  verse  the  pensive  witchery, 
"  most  musical,  most  melancholy,"  of  this  tremorous 
song  of  the  toad,  for  it  is  in  truth  the  uncouth  and  ill- 
favored  toad  that  now  swells  his  bagpipe  in  the  marsh- 
es and  fills  the  night  with  music  ?  It  is  one  of  the  be- 
neficences of  nature  that  the  twilight  glamour  throws  a 
veil  of  obscurity  over  the  performer  while  it  emphasizes 
and  consecrates  its  music. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  toad's  bagpipe.  Those  who 
recall  the  dual  tone  of  the  national  Highland  instru- 
ment, with  its  continuous  drone  and  accessory  varia- 


THE  TOAD'S  BAGPIPE  55 

tions,  and  the  inflated  source  of  the.  combined  music, 
will  readily  appreciate  the  allusion  as  applied  to  the  toad. 

There  are  few  who  have  discovered  the  peculiar  art 
by  which  the  toad  expresses  his  emotion.  Often  I  have 
coaxed  an  encore  from  him  at  mid -day  by  decoying 
him  with  a  mimic  song,  which  may  be  almost  perfectly 
produced  by  combining  an  ascending  prolonged  whis- 
tle, beginning  on  the  tone  of  second  D  above  middle  C, 
and  running  up  to  A,  with  a  droning  sound  of  the  voice 
near  the  tone  of  the  second  F  below  middle  C,  although 
a  strict  adherence  to  either  tone  is  not  necessary. 

It  is  a  surprising  and  saucy  response  that  we  receive 
down  there  among  the  lily- pads,  as  may  be  conjectured 
from  my  truthful  portrait,  and  the  familiar  sound  that 
comes  up  to  us  thus  robbed  of  its  twilight  attributes 
gains  nothing  by  being  out  of  season.  But  this  picture 
is  for  naturalists,  not  for  poets.  It  is  the  song  and  not 
the  singer  that  concerns  the  poet. 

I  cannot  close  this  batrachian  page  without  offering 
my  commiseration  to  my  friends  of  the  South.  The 
frog- music  of  Louisiana  and  Florida,  as  I  heard  it  two 
years  ago,  has  left  its  scar  upon  my  memory;  for  while 
I  recognized  many  familiar  voices  and  instruments  strug- 
gling in  the  din  of  those  rainy  nights,  the  great  burden 
of  the  orchestration  seemed  borne  by  a  legion  of  name- 
less instrumentalists,  who,  judging  from  their  perform- 
ances, operated  on  a  sort  of  primitive  guitar,  presum- 
ably consisting  of  rubber  strands  stretched  across  a 
tomato -can.  Yes,  as  I  have  said,  the  spring  song  of 
the  frog  has  yet  to  find  its  poetic  interpreter.  But,  oh, 
my  poet  of  the  flowery  land,  beware !  A  sonnet  from 
you  on  this  theme  would  forever  blast  your  hopes  for 
poetic  fame,  though  it  might  exalt  you  as  a  humorist. 


56  SHARP    EYES 

I  have  a  little  group  of  Japanese  paper  frogs  playing 
on  guitars  which,  with  very  slight  liberties,  as  shown 
below,  might  serve  as  an  illustration  to  such  a  Southern 
poem,  while  in  the  foreground  I  have  pictured  a  double 
whistle,  which  I  picked  up  in  a  Japanese  bazaar,  and 
which  produces  the  two  veritable  tones  which  the  toad 
voices  from  his  inflated  bagpipe.  It  is  evident  that  the 
land  of  the  Mikado  has  a  toad  song  similar  to  that  of 
Bufo  Amcricanns. 

We  hear  of  the  toad  "  swelling  its  throat "  in  song 
like  a  bird,  but  few  of  those  who  have  seen  the  white 
flashes  at  its  mouth  during  that  song  have  imagined 
the  true  nature  of  the  toad's  bagpipe. 


MAY-APPLES   AND   MOCK 
MAY-APPLES 


HE  name  "apple"  seems 
to  have  been  a  favorite  and 
convenient  resource  to  the 
botanical  christeners  for  fruits  and  fruit- 
like  growths  of  all  kinds.  There  is  the 
oak-apple,  a  gall  produced  by  the  sting 
of  an  insect;  cedar- apple,  a  fungus;  tomatoes  were 
called  love-apples,  and  potatoes,  ground-apples;  the 
Indian  turnip-root  of  the  plains,  the  prairie -apple;  the 
papaw,  the  custard-apple.  Then  we  have  the  pineapple 
and  the  two  May-apples,  not  one  of  which  is  any  more 
entitled  to  the  name  of  " apple"  than  were  the  apples  of 
Sodom,  though  from  all  accounts  they  are  somewhat 
more  agreeable  to  the  taste  than  the  Scriptural  fruit. 


m 


Few  New  England  boys  need  be  told  what  the  May- 
apple  is — the  real  May-apple  of  the  swamp -pinks  and 
of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  not  the  yellow  tomato -like  af- 
fair known  as  May-apple  in  the  States  farther  south 
and  west,  and  which  the  doctors  and  botanists  call 
Podophyllum.  No;  the  May-apple  of  the  South  has  a 
selfish  errand  in  life ;  it  is  filled  with  seeds,  and  is  con- 
cerned only  in  its  own  posterity;  but  the  May-apple 
which  hangs  among  the  clusters  of  the  wild,  fragrant 
pink  swamp -azaleas  has  no  mission  in  the  world  except 
to  melt  in  the  mouth  of  the  eager,  thirsty  small  boy. 
He  knows  little  and  cares  less  what  it  really  is.  He 
only  knows  that  it  beckons  him  as  he  passes  through 
the  May  woods,  and  its  cool,  translucent,  pale- green 
pulp  is  like  balm  to  his  thirsty  lips.  How  it  makes  the 
corners  of  my  jaws  ache  with  thirsty  yearning  as  I  think 


MAY-APPLES   AND    MOCK   MAY-APPLES 


of  it !    And  what  a  pink  whiff  of  the  swamp  May-blooms 
its  memory  brings ! 

The  May-apple  of  New  Jersey  and  southward  is  a 


true  fruit,  which  fol- 
lows a  large  white 
flower,  and  Dr.  Gray, 
the  botanist,  says  "it  is 
eaten  by  pigs  and  boys!" 
Think  of  it,  boys!  And  think 
of  what  else  he  says  of  it:  "Ova- 
ry ovoid,  stigma  sessile,  undu- 
late, seeds  covering  the  lateral 
placenta  each  enclosed  in  an  aril." 
Now,  it  may  be  safe  for  pigs  and  billy- 
goats  to  tackle  such  a  compound  as  that,  but 
we  boys  all  like  to  know  what  we  are  eating, 
and  I  cannot  but  feel  that  the  public  health  offi- 
cials of  every  township  should  require  this  formula  of 
Dr.  Gray's  to  be  printed  on  every  one  of  these  big 
loaded  pills,  if  that  is  what  they  are  really  made  of. 
There  is  no  such  formidable  indictment  to  be  made 
against  the  New  England  May-apple;  the  worst  that 
they  can  say  of  it  is  that  it  is  an  "  abnormal  excrescence 
of  cellular  tissue  and  chlorophyll,"  and  of  course  we 
all  know  what  that  means,  and  how  appetizing  it  is  too. 
Nor  is  the  small  boy  obliged  to  share  his  mess  with 
the  pigs,  for  the  choice  New  England  morsel  is  held 
far  out  of  their  reach. 


6O  SHARP    EYES 

The  true  nature  of  the  azalea  May-apple  was  long 
a  mystery.  Some  authorities  believed  that  it  was  a  gall 
growth  caused  by  the  sting  of  an  insect,  as  in  the  oak- 
apple.  But  I  believe  it  is  now  accepted  as  a  mere 
modified  bud  or  extraordinary  growth  of  pulp,  whatever 
its  origin.  It  has  no  seed,  and  its  whole  interior  is  of 
the  same  firm  consistency. 

But  there  are  May-apples  and  mock  May-apples,  and 
the  small  boy  may  well  beware  of  the  latter  poisonous 
variety.  These  may  be  seen  hanging  sometimes  in 
close  company  with  the  azalea  apples  upon  the  Andro- 
meda bushes,  and  are  frequently  gathered  by  mistake; 
and  such  would  seem  to  be  their  artful  object.  But 
there  need  be  no  confusion,  for  though  in  outward  ap- 
pearance the  similarity  is  striking,  the  interior  of  the 
false  apple  is  found  to  be  hollow  and  stringy.  These 
mock-apples  turn  to  black,  unsightly  pouches  when  they 
grow  old,  and  at  this  season  would  seem  to  fulfil  the 
Scriptural  account  of  the  "apples  of  Sodom,"  which 
"turn  to  dust  and  ashes,"  the  interior  of  the  mock 
May-apple  being  filled  with  ashen  powder  and  rem- 
nants of  plant -lice,  for  this  growth  is  of  insect  origin. 


r 


May  26th 

OT  many  of  us  have  guessed  the 
cunning  mysteries  of  my  trio  of 
secretive  blooms  nor  truly  merit- 
ed their  confidences.     These  are 
the  "painted-cup,"  the    fringed 
polygala,  and    the    dwarf -ginseng.     Yes,  we 
know  them  all;  for  have  we  not  picked  them 
a   hundred    times,  even    though    perhaps  we 
may  not  have  known  their  names?    They  make 
a  pretty  bouquet  upon  our  mantel;  but  we  lit- 
tle imagine  what  a  quiet  frolic  is  going  on  there 
at  our  expense. 

"Scarlet  tufts 

Are  glowing  in  the  green  like  flakes  of  fire! 
The  wanderers  of  the  prairie  know  them  well, 
And  call  that  brilliant  flower  the  '  painted  -cup.' " 


Thus  sings   Bryant  of   this  flower  which  is    not   a 

flower — this  glowing  display  which  floods  not  only 

the  Western  prairie,  but  our  low  May  meadows  of  the 

East,  with  "  meadow  fire,"  as  it  is   sometimes  called. 

6 


62  SHARP    EYES 

The  "painted -cup"  is  perhaps  the  brightest  touch  of 
color  among  the  whole  wild  bouquet.  Even  the  cardi- 
nal-flower, its  only  rival,  must  yield  to  its  intenser  glow. 
A  cluster  of  the  flowering  plants  is  dazzling  in  its  brill- 
iancy ;  and  yet  when  we  pay  our  tribute  to  the  "  flow- 
er," we  are  giving  credit  where  it  is  not  due. 

The  actual  flower  of  the  "painted-cup"  is  an  insignif- 
icant greenish  tube -like  cloistered  affair  that  is  rarely 
detected  by  the  ordinary  observer,  being  guarded  by  a 
gorgeously  attired  retinue  of  leaves  that  acquire  a  dis- 
tinction they  do  not  deserve.  The  "  cup  "  is  composed 
of  many  flowers,  each  waited  upon  by  an  attendant  leaf, 
suggesting  a  three -lobed  cape,  which  seems  to  have 
been  dipped  to  its  centre  in  the  most  vivid  scarlet 
paint.  It  is  the  accumulation  of  these  which  gives  the 
color  effect  to  the  plant,  and  they  are  mere  leaves  in 
masquerade.  Bryant  calls  them  "  bright  beakers,"  and 
pictures  them  as  "  holding  the  dew  for  fairies."  But  it 
is  a  cup  only  in  general  outline,  and  would  prove  a 
leaky  "  beaker,"  although  it  has  managed  to  hold  its 
secret  pretty  securely  from  many  of  us  for  years. 


AN   UNDERGROUND   FLOWER 


May  26th 

HE  stroller  in  the  moist  May  woods  will  well 
remember  those  mauve-winged  blooms  among 
the  moss  that  seem  to  flutter  in  the  breeze, 
like  a  brood  of 
tiny  purple  butterflies  with 
fringy  tails,  or  in  a  shel- 
tered nook  appear  to  have 
settled  in  a  swarm  among 
the  winter-green  leaves. 
"  False  winter-green  "  the 
plant  is  commonly  called, 
its  leaves  bearing  a  slight 
resemblance  to  those  of 
the  aromatic  checkerberry. 
It  is  one  of  our  oddest 
and  prettiest  spring  flow-  • 
ers ;  in  its  very  singular 
shape  quite  suggesting  an 
orchid,  with  its  two  spread- 
ing petals  and  deep  laven- 
der-colored tasselled  sleeve. 
But,  indeed,  it  has  long 
been  laughing  at  us  in  that 


64  SHARP    EVES 

sleeve,  as  we  have  brought  away  its  flowers  from  the 
woods,  while  we  left  its  rarest  and  most  important 
bloom  behind  us. 

For  the  little  polygala  found  out  long  ago  that  some 
means  must  be  adopted  to  keep  its  foothold  in  the 
woods,  so  many  were  the  eager  hands  that  culled  it  ev- 
ery year.  And  so  it  formed  a  little  plan  to  anchor  itself 
in  its  home  beyond  the  reach  of  bouquet  hunters,  offer- 
ing one  posy  for  the  boutonniere,  and  another  for  moth- 
er earth — one  playful  flower  for  the  world,  another  for 
serious  use  and  posterity.  But  for  this  cunning  resource 
I  fear  our  pretty  fringed  polygala  would  have  been  ex- 
terminated in  many  of  its  haunts.  Let  us  lose  no  time 
to  seek  the  purple  broods  in  the  woods,  and  gracefully 
acknowledge  our  humility.  These  pale,  pouch-like  un- 
derground flowers  are  not  beautiful  to  look  at,  but  they 
plant  the  mould  with  seeds  every  year,  and  thus  per* 
petuate  the  purple  beds  of  bloom. 


. ..:« 


^          THE 
GINSENG'S  SECRET 

May  26th 

OW  safely  buried  is  the  treasure 
of  the  small  ginseng,  that  pret- 
ty little  wild  plant,  with  its 
feathery  ball  of  bloom  and  cir- 
cle of  attendant  leaves.  It 


carpets  many  a  mossy  nook  in  the 
open  wood  or  swamps,  its  clusters 
_^       of  fragrant  white  pompons 
often    intermingled    with 
the  purple  blooms  of  the 
fringed  poly  gala  just  de- 
scribed. 

The  "ground-nut"  it  is  plain- 
ly called  in  all  our  botanies;  but 
I  have  known  an  eighty- year- old  countryman  who  had 
picked  the  blossom  in  his  childhood  and  had  known 
the  plant  all  his  life,  and  its  name,  too,  and  yet  had 
never  suspected  why  it  was  called  "ground-nut."  1 


66 


SHARP    EYES 


have   also  heard  the  plant   called  "  pignut,"  which  re- 
calls Caliban  in  The  Tempest  : 

"And  I  with  my  long  nails  will  dig  thee  pignuts." 

But  the  "  pignut "  of  Shakespeare  is  the  secret  of  an- 
other plant  which  grows  in  foreign  soil.  Nevertheless, 
not  until  we  follow  the  example  of  Caliban  and  "  dig  " 
can  we  really  claim  acquaintance  with  our  little  dwarf- 
ginseng,  whose  sweet  edible  tuber  deep  under  the 
mould,  is  known  only  to  the  few. 


THE   BEWITCHED 
COCOONS 

June  2d 


N  the  table  before  me  lies  a  letter  from  a 
young  correspondent  who  has  been  having 
some  perplexing  entomological  experiences 
of  so  interesting  a  nature  that  I  have  con- 
cluded to  publish  her  account,  and  my  an- 
swer. 


"  DEAR  MR.  GIBSON, — I  want  to  tell  you  what  a  funny  time  I 
had  with  those  three  cocoons  that  you  gave  me  last  winter.  You 
remember  they  were  quite  large,  and  all  wrapped  up  close  in 
leaves,  and  were  very  hard,  like  parchment.  You  said  that  they 


• 


were  all  the  same  kind,  and  that  I  would  be  sur- 
prised at  what  would  come  out  of  them,  and  you 
may  be  sure  I  was.     They  have  given  me  three  sur- 
prises, and  I  don't  understand  them  a  bit.    Mamma 
says  that  she  believes  you  knew  all  the  time  just 
what  would  happen,  and  that  if  these  first  three 
cocoons  are  a  sample  of  your  collection  she  would 
like  a  dozen,  and  she  will  promise  not  to  be  sur- 
prised  now  at  anything  that   may  come   out   of 
them,  from  a  pug-dog  to  a  fiddler -crab.     But  I 
don't  believe  you  knew  it  at  all,  be- 
cause you  spoke   only  of  'some- 
thing beautiful '  for  my  collec- 
tion, and   I   know  you  would 
not  have  disappointed   me,  so 
I  am  going  to  tell  you  all  about 
it,  and  hope  that  you  will  explain  it 
to  me,  for  I  am  dreadfully  puzzled.  .  .  . 

"You  told  me  to  put  the  cocoons  in  a 
box,  and  towards  spring  to  take  a  look  at 
them  every  day  or  so.     I  put  them  on 
my   shelf,  intending   to   get   a   box 
pretty  soon,  but  forgot  about  it ;  and 
one  morning  when  I  woke  up  I  look- 
ed towards  the  mantel,  and  thought 
......      I  must  be  dreaming,  for  there,  hang- 
ing on  a  drooping  leaf  of  grass  from  a 
vase,  was  a  great  butterfly  with  brown 
wings,  and  with  two  spots  like  big  eyes 
staring  right  at  me  across  the  room.     I 
never  saw  such  a  beautiful  butterfly  before. 
I  called  mamma,  and  she  put  a  pin  in  it,  and 
killed  it  with  chloroform,  and  it  is  now  all 
nicely  spread  in  my  cabinet.     Now  that  was 
a  double  surprise,  for  the  butterfly  came  out 
in  winter — instead  of  spring,  as  you  said — 
and  it  was  so  much  bigger  and  lovelier  than 
anything  I  had  expected.     I  was  very  glad, 


THE    BEWITCHED   COCOONS 


too,  that  I  caught  it  before  it  had  hurt  its  wings  by  flying  about 
the  room ;  and  so  as  to  make  sure  of  the  others,  I  put  the  co- 
coons right  in  a  box,  and  looked  at  them  a  dozen  times  a  day. 

"  The  next  surprise  was  one  I  shall  never  forget.  One  morn- 
ing I  opened  the  lid  of  the  box  and  looked  in,  and  what  do  you 
think  happened  ?  A  great  yellow  wasp  flew  up  into  my  face,  and 
almost  frightened  me  to  death.  Mamma  heard  me  scream,  and 
came  in  and  drove  the  wasp  out  of  the  window.  He  was  a  dread- 
ful ugly  thing,  and  I  am  very  glad  he  did  not  sting  me.  .  .  .  And 
this  morning  came  the  third  surprise,  and  I  don't  know  as  I  want 
any  more  of  this  kind  of  cocoons.  I  opened  the  box,  and  found 
it  swarming  with  small  wasps  with  red  and  black  bodies  and 
stings  half  an  inch  long.  I  was  glad  enough  to  let  them  fly  out 
of  the  window.  Are  they  the  big  wasp's  young  ones,  or  what  ?  . . . 
Yes,  indeed,  your  cocoons  have  been  '  surprises,'  as  you  promised 
— real  mean  frauds,  I  call  them,  and  I  shall  not  forgive  you  until 
you  tell  me  all  about  them.  I  begin  to  believe,  as  mamma  says, 
that  you  packed  all  this  mischief  into  them  yourself,  just  for  a  lark." 

"  MY  DEAR  YOUNG  FRIEND, — I  was  greatly  amused  at  your 
letter  giving  the  account  of  your  experi- 
ence with  those  three  Polyphemus  cocoons. 
Never  mind  whether  or  not  I  knew  how 
they  were  loaded ;  you  may  be  sure  that 
whatever  'mischief  was  'packed    into 
them'  was  put  there   before  they  came 
into  my  possession.     Bewitched  they  cer- 
tainly were,  but  not  by  me.     I  can  make 
a  silver  'quarter'  disappear,  and  mystify 
you  with  various  card   tricks,  but   I 
have  no  such  magic  touch  as  the 
witch   that  charmed   those  two 
cocoons.  ...  I  am  sorry  you 
did  not  keep  a  specimen 
of  the  'ugly  wasps' 


JO  SHARP    EYES 

for  your  collection.  You  have  had  an  instructive  lesson  in  one 
department  of  entomology  of  which  you  knew  nothing  before, 
and  those  wasps  should  properly  have  had  a  place  in  your  cab- 
inet side  by  side  with  the  beautiful  moth ;  for,  singular  as  it  may 
seem,  nature  has  designed  that  these  insects  should  be  quite  in- 
timately associated — much  too  intimately  to  be  agreeable  to  the 
Polyphemus,  as  I  will  explain. 

"  As  I  told  you,  those  three  cocoons  were  spun  by  three  cater- 
pillars, exactly  alike  to  all  outward  appearance,  and  of  the  spe- 
cies called  Attacus  (or  Teled)  Polyphemus.  One  of  the  cocoons 
has  yielded  its  perfect  development  in  the  beautiful  moth.  The 
other  two  caterpillars  did  their  best,  poor  things  !  to  win  a  simi- 
lar future,  but  that  was  a  matter  beyond  their  control ;  and  their 
fate  may  serve  the  moralist  as  an  illustration  of  what  a  sad 
transformation  the  deadly  thrust  of  a  little  sin  may  bring  about. 

"The  caterpillars  were  bewitched  before  they  spun  their  co- 
coons— '  voudooed,'  as  they  say  down 
South.     And  the  voudoo?     Well, 
you   let   loose   a   whole    brood 
of  the  witches  to   continue 
iheir     mischief    when 
those  '  wasps '  escaped 


r , 


THE   BEWITCHED   COCOONS  "J I 

at  your  window.  For  your  'wasps'  were  not  true  wasps,  but 
ichneumon  flies ;  the  large  one  is  called  Ophion  macrurum,  and 
the  swarm  which  you  imagined  might  be  the  '  young  ones '  of 
the  '  big  wasp '  are  another  species,  from  the  third  cocoon,  with 
the  same  evil  parasitical  ways.  Briefly  told,  their  doings  are  as 
follows :  These  two  species  know  a  Polyphemus  caterpillar  when 
they  see  him,  and  to  find  them  feeding  among  the  leaves  is  the 
end  and  aim  of  their  existence.  Once  discovered,  they  alight 
upon  him,  either  thrust  their  stings  into  his  body,  or  simply 
penetrate  the  skin,  and,  much  against  his  will,  lay  a  number  of 
eggs,  for  the  so-called  'sting'  of  the  ichneumon  flies  is  more 
properly  the  ovipositor,  through  which  the  eggs  are  conducted 
into  the  bodies  of  their  victims.  The  caterpillars  of  the  Cecropta 
and  Prometheus  moths  are  frequently  to  be  found  with  their 
backs  speckled  with  the  tiny  white  eggs  nearly  the  size  of  the 
letter  i  of  this  page.  We  shall  get  no  moths  from  these  cater- 
pillars. The  ichneumon  fly  has  sealed  their  doom.  These  eggs 
hatch  into  minute  larvae  that  penetrate  the  caterpillar's  body, 
and  feed  upon  the  fatty  portions,  avoiding  any  attack  on  its 
vitals,  and  thus  permit  it  to  attain  its  full  growth,  and  even  to 
spin  its  cocoon  as  you  have  seen. 

When  once  thus  securely  provided  with  a  warm  house  for  the 
winter,  the  ichneumon  grubs,  now  nearly  full  grown,  proceed  to 
devour  what  remains  of  the  unfortunate  caterpillar  host,  until 
occasionally  no  vestige  of  him  remains.  With  this  final  repast 
the  larvae  reach  their  full  size,  and  then  proceed  each  to  spin  a 
cocoon  for  itself,  thus  filling  the  cavity  of  the  Polyphemus  cocoon 
with  their  own  silky  cases,  packed  side  to  side  so  solidly  as  to 
take  the  hexagonal  shape  of  a  honey -comb.  The  grubs  then 
change  to  pupae,  and  eventually  make  their  exit  through  small 
holes  in  the  outer  cocoon,  and  fly  abroad,  to  the  terror  of  future 
Polyphemus  caterpillars  —  and  little  girls. 

"  But  that  larger  fly  is  certainly  a  formidable  affair,  and  you  are 
hardly  to  be  blamed  for  a  reasonable  amount  of  caution ;  for 
though  its  sting  is  not  so  formidable  an  instrument  as  the  smaller 
insect  possesses,  it  is  capable  of  ir  flicting  a  severe  wound,  as  I 
know  from  experience. 

"  So  here  you  have  the  mystery  solved — an  instance  of  a  phase 


/2  SHARP    EYES 

of  entomological  life  which  is  full  of  interest  alike  to  the  natu- 
ralist and  the  philosopher.  I  could  tell  you  of  other  wonders  of 
ichneumon  life  even  more  strange  than  this ;  and  if  you  are  a 
true  student  of  entomology  you  cannot  help  but  discover  many 
quite  as  interesting,  only  next  time  don't  throw  your  lesson  to 
the  winds." 


THE 
BOMBARDIER-BEETLE 

'&Jl'    ,  fune  Qth 

W  HE  familiar  counsel  to  the  aspir- 

ant for  success  to  "  leave  no  stone 
unturned  "  is  said  to  date  back  to 
the  Delphic  oracle,  and  to  one  who 
,f>  persistently    follows    the   precept 

something  worth  while  is  generally 
sure  to  turn  up.     Even  in  literal  fields, 
the  country  rambler  who  will  "  turn  ev- 
ery stone,"  even  in  a  small  corner  of  the 
meadow,  has  many  surprises   in  store   for 
him.     It  has  always  been  a  favorite  pastime  with  me, 
this  overturning  of  stones,  and  I  know  not  how  many 
thousands  of  them,  big  and  little,  and  even  rocks,  too, 


74 


SHARP    E\TES 


-m 


have  disclosed  their  dark  secrets  to  me.  Under  one  I 
find  a  mouse-nest ;  another,  a  snake  or  toad  ;  the  next 
one  may  disclose  the  nest  of  the  solitary  bee,  or  brown 
wasp,  or  mud-dauber,  or  rare  spider;  and  here  I  find  a 
pretty  orange -spotted  salamander,  or  wood -frog,  or  a 
rare  cocoon,  to  say  nothing  of  all  the  host  of  squirming 
things — beetles,  bugs,  caterpillars,  centipedes,  iules,  ar- 
madillo-bugs, and  ants — which  are  among  the  certain 
dwellers  beneath  almost  any  stone  in  the  field.  Sur- 
prise after  surprise  came 

to    me,  until   at   last  I 

». 

thought  I  had  them  all. 
But  one  day  I  found 
out  my  mistake. 

I  had  lifted   a  large 
^ '    flat  rock  and  turned  it 
over,  when   I   was   im- 
mediately saluted  with 
a  distinct  explosion,  ac- 
companied with  a  tiny 
cloud  of  smoke  among 
the  border  grasses.     I 
quickly   parted    the 
grass,  and  saw  a  small 
blue  beetle  partly  concealed  beneath  a  dried 
leaf.     I  sought  to  pick  him  up,  when  I  was 
treated  to  a  repetition  of  the  explosive  report 
and  another  cloud  of  smoke.     Here  was  a  cu- 
rious freak  indeed.     A  regular  sharp-shooter,  blue  uni- 
form and  all.     I  captured   my  insect,  and  placed  him 
in  a  collecting-box.     Shortly  afterwards,  upon    lifting 
the  lid,  the  prisoner  gave  me  another  volley.     But  no 
provocation  could  induce  him  to  further  waste  his  pow- 


THE    BOMBARDIER-BEETLE  75 

der.     His  ammunition  was  exhausted,  and  he  evide  itly 
carried  only  three  rounds. 

I  had  heard  of  a  beetle  with  these  same  bombarding 
propensities  which  was  found  in  Europe,  and  called  the 
"  bombardier,"  but  had  never  known  of  its  being  found 
in  this  country.    After  a  night's 
rest  in  captivity  the  explo- 
sive spunk  of  the  insect 
was    revived,  and  I  got     ,  ,     f  :'~    "*^ 
another  round  of  three       V    ^<£^L^> 
shots  out  of  him,  the 
puff  of  white  smoke- 
like  vapor  staining 
the  tin  on  the  in- 


terior  of  the  box  and  leaving  a  pungent,  acid-like  odor. 

Since  that  first  discovery  I  have  found  a  number  of 
the  specimens,  and  their  remarkable  powers  as  cracks- 
men are  a  never-failing  source  of  mirth,  even  to  those 
who  have  served  as  a  target. 

It  is  said  by  the  naturalists  that  this  peculiarity  of 
the  bombardier  affords  a  means  of  protection  against  its 


70  SHARP    EYES 

enemies,  not  only  in  its  poisonous  chemical  properties, 
but  the  puff  of  vapor  serves,  perhaps,  as  a  screen  for  es- 
cape, throwing  dust,  as  it  were,  in  the  eyes  of  its  pur- 
suer, and  analogous  to  the  inky  cloud  of  the  cuttle-fish 
beneath  the  water.  But  why  should  the  bombardier  be 
thus  favored?  He  has  legs  and  wings  like  others  of 
his  tribe,  and  needs  no  such  resource  of  escape. 

Shall  we  dismiss  all  recognition  of  any  humorous  in- 
tention in  nature?  Has  travesty  no  place  in  the  divine 
scheme?  I  confess  that,  excepting  as  a  bit  of  droll 
eccentricity,  the  bombardier  has  little  to  pique  my  phi- 
losophy. 


THE  DEVIL'S   COACH-HORSE 

June  yth 

HE  bombardier,  though  unique  in  his  way, 
has  a  rival  in  mere  drollery  in  the  devil's 
coach -horse.  This  horse  has  an  odd  trick 
of  his  own  with  his  long  tail,  which,  in  its 
way.  is  quite  as  surprising  as  anything  the 
bombardier  can  do.  He  is  the  "  lightning 
change  artist"  of  this  bug-circus,  trans- 
forming himself  from  a  buzzing,  gauze -winged  fly 
into  a  lively  wingless  bug  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye.  Here  is  a  chance  for  our  boys  to  test  their 
eyes.  There  is  a  whole  tribe  of  these  profane  horses, 
big  and  little.  A  butterfly-net  swept  among  the 
meadow  flowers  and  grasses  will  certainly  capture  a 
number  of  them — the  smaller  species — and  their  tricks 
can  be  observed  through  the  meshes  of  the  net .  as 
they  fly  from  side  to  side.  But  the  best  raree-show  is 
to  be  had  from  the  large  species,  though  it  is  quite  in 
keeping  that  we  must  frequent  haunts  from  which  the 
polite  nostril  would  naturally  shrink  if  we  would  find 
the  devil's  finest  coach-horse  in  his  element,  for  the 


78  SHARP    EYES 

rove-beetle,  as  he  is  also  called,  is  one  of  the  tribe  of 
carrion  and  scavenger  beetles.  His  glistening,  agile, 
and  comical  presence  may  be  seen  about  barn -yard 
compost  and  other  decaying  refuse  upon  which  he 
seems  to  alight  in  the  semblance  of  a  bee  or  wasp, 
when  his  gauze  wings  suddenly  vanish  as  if  they  had 
dissolved  into  air. 


What  is  the  hocus-pocus?  Here  comes  one  of  the 
insects  buzzing  yonder  over  the  grass.  Keep  your  eye 
intently  fixed  upon  him.  Now  he  alights  near  by,  and, 
quick  as  a  flash,  up  goes  the  agile  tail,  and  with  its 
tip  the  large  filmy  wings  are  folded  and  tucked  away 
beneath  their  tiny  pair  of  wing- covers  in  a  twinkling. 

The  identity  of  this  queer  devil's  horse  would  natur- 


THE    DEVIL'S   COACH-HORSE  79 

ally  puzzle  the  young  student  of  entomology.  A  mo- 
ment ago,  while  on  the  wing,  he  appeared  a  veritable 
wasp,  and  now  a  nondescript  —  a  kind  of  wingless  hor- 
net or  fly.  The  edges  of  its  body  flash  with  a  yellow 
satiny  sheen  in  its  various  motions  in  the  sun,  and  an 
occasional  attitude  betrays  the  presence  of  the  two  tiny 
wing  covers  otherwise  unnoticed.  In  these  unconspic- 
uous  wing  covers,  however,  we  may  find  our  key  to  his 
identity  among  insects  —  the  distinguishing  character 
of  the  beetle  tribe,  of  which  these  comical  creatures 
constitute  a  curious  exception  and  a  distinct  genus — 
the  staphylinus. 


BUTTERFLY 
BOTANY   TEACHERS 


June  i6th 


BLACK  swallow-tail  — a  black 
swallow-tail!     Look!  quick!" 
Such    was    the    cry   I    heard 
many  times  last  summer  from  my 
studio    windows.      But    my   studio 
was  not  in  the  city.     The  cry  was 
not  that  of   the   hopeful,  aspiring, 
metropolitan    dudelet   lost    in    ad- 
miration for  the  only  "  swallow- 
tail" which  is  ever  likely  to  thrill 
his    being,    and    whose    visible 
haunts  of  rest  and  flitting  are 
the  tailor's  window  and  the 
3w  ball-room.  "A  swallow-tail!" 
It  was  a  cry  that  quickened 

my  pulses  and  carried  me  back  to  unburdened 
boyhood.  Such  was  the  challenge  that  was  then  as 
now  the  signal  for  a  tireless  chase  over  the  ten-acre 
meadow  with  eager  butterfly  net  and  panting  breath 


BUTTERFLY  BOTANY  TEACHERS 


81 


and  vociferous  exclamation  of  hope,  defeat,  or  victory. 
That  is  only  half  a  country  boy  who  does  not  know  the 
"swallow-tail"  and  the  butterfly  chase. 


Yes,  we  country  boys  all  know  the  velvety  "  black 
swallow-tail "  butterfly  and  its  fluttering  poise  above 
the  clover  blossoms ;  its  two  border  rows  of  yellow 
spots  and  cloudy  band  of  azure  blue  upon  the  lower 


82  SHARP    EYES 

wings,  each  with  its  red  eye-spot  and  long  tail.  We 
have  caught  him  in  the  meadow,  we  have  found  his 
gray  chrysalis  hanging  under  the  clapboards,  and  have 
wished  for  a  few  more  pairs  of  hands  as  we  gath- 
ered the  black-banded,  gold -spotted,  green  caterpillars 
among  the  garden  beds  of  parsley  and  carrot.  We  will 
say  nothing  of  those  yellow  horns  which  he  keeps  so 
carefully  concealed,  and  which  he  will  display  upon 
slight  provocation,  though,  if  he  only  knew  it,  he  ap- 
pears to  much  better  advantage  without  this  peculiar 
head-dress. 

But  while  we  knew  our  butterfly  all  our  lives,  capt- 
ured him,  mounted  him,  and  with  learned  label,  "  Pa- 
pilio  Asterias"  stowed  him  in  our  cabinet  in  the  com- 
fortable conceit  that  there  was  little  else  to  be  known 
about  him,  how  few  of  us  have  thought  of  what  a  rare 
lesson  in  botany  this  Asterias  has  been  wasting  on  us 
all  these  years  ? 

In  a  previous  volume*  I  have  devoted  a  chapter  to 
the  botanical  instincts  among  butterflies  as  seen  in  their 
selection  of  food  plants  for  their  young,  and  this  Aste- 
rias is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  examples.  Under 
his  guidance  during  a  single  day  we  may  learn  a  sur- 
prising lesson  in  botany. 

We  have  too  long  thought  only  of  the  "  idle  butter- 
fly "  of  the  poet  as  the  type  of  charming  heedlessness, 
the  "gay  idler "- 

"  The  sportive  rover  of  the  meadows 

Kissing  all  buds  that  are  pretty  and  sweet," 

and  sipping  honey  in  "  quiet  ecstasy." 

*  Strolls  by  Starlight  and  Sunshine, ' 


BUTTERFLY  BOTANY  TEACHERS  83 

Idle,  indeed  !  Observe  the  insect  carefully,  my  poet ! 
Does  my  butterfly  alight  and  linger  on  yonder  leaf  of 
carrot  for  honey  ?  And  now  on  the  parsley  leaf,  and 
here  again  on  the  celery.  For  honey?  Are  there  any 
flowers  for  it  to  "  kiss  "  on  yonder  feathery  leaf  of  fen- 
nel or  caraway?  And  now  it  floats  off  across  the  field, 
joined  by  two  or  three  more  like  itself.  Let  us  fol- 
low their  rounds,  and  carefully  note  the  plants  that 
they  visit,  excluding  those  visits  in  which  the  honeyed 
flowers  are  so  evidently  the  sole  attraction.  Here  is 
the  list  which  you  may  count  upon  in  advance,  and 
upon  each  plant  the  eggs  are  laid  that  hatch  into 


those  beautiful  green  caterpil- 
lars :  parsley,  fennel,  carrot,  cel- 
ery, poison  -  hemlock,  cicuta,  sium,  dill, 
caraway,  anise,  wild -carrot,  sanicle,  an- 
gelica, archangelica,  lovage,  and  water- 
pennywort. 

This  list  in  itself  would  not  strike 
the  ordinary  observer  as  especially  re- 
markable, and  would  seem  haphazard  enough  to  justify 
the  poet's  charge  of  heedlessness.  It  is  not  until  we 
turn  to  our  botany  with  our  list  that  we  learn  its  sur- 
prising meaning.  Here  we  find  all  these  plants 
grouped  under  the  one  order,  Umbelliferce,  or  the 
"parsley  family." 

The  Asterias  butterfly  is  an  expert  specialist  in  this 
one  family  of  plants,  and  has  never  been  known  to  go 
outside  of  it  in  its  selection  of  food  plants  for  its  young. 
Remember,  then,  those  caterpillars  and  the  lesson  that 
they  teach,  for  upon  whatever  plant  you  find  them, 
you  may  instantly  class  it  as  a  member  of  the  parsley 
family. 

Then  there  are  the  Semicolon  and  Comma  butterflies 
that  will  lead  you  to  all  the  plants  of  the  "  nettle  "  fam- 
ily, while  the  little  yellow  butterfly  picks  out  all  the 
Leguminosce,  or  bean  family,  and  so  the  list  continues. 
We  all  know  the  Archippns,  with  her   deep  orange- 


red  wings   veined  with   black, 
her    black-and -yellow    banded 
caterpillar  that   hides  beneath 
the  milk-weed  leaves,  and  her 
emerald -green    chrysalis   stud- 
ded with  golden  buttons.    And 
what  can  she  teach  us?     Her 
lesson  is  an  interesting  one, 
for  I  suspect  that  the  Ar- 
cliippus  can  see  further  into 
the   milk-weed    tribe    of 
plants   than    most   of   the 
botanists.     The    common 
silk-weed  is  her  favorite, 
but    if    you    search    you 
may  find  her  caterpillar 
broods  on  various  of  our 
other  milk-weeds,  of 
which  there  are  a  dozen 
or  more. 

But  how  is  this?      x«fr""''? 
Here   I   find    them     ^  ;* 
upon  the  dog-bane ! 
What  does  our  botany 
say  to   this?     The  dog- 
bane is  not   included  in 
the  milk-weeds,  though  it 
is  the  next  family  in  the  flora,  while 
its  opposite  leaves,  milky  juice,  pods 
with    silky   seeds,   and    other    resem- 
blances in  the  flower,  would  certain- 
ly seem    to    entitle    it    to   admission    in 
the    family.     And  as  we   look  back  into 


86  SHARP    EYES 

the  history  of  the  plant,  we  find  that  the  earlier  bota- 
nists, did  include  it  in  the  family  from  which  it  has 
been  removed  only  within  comparatively  recent  time. 
It  is  really  a  question  which  is  right  in  the  matter,  the 
butterfly  or  the  botanist.  I  shall  live  in  hopes  of  see- 
ing the  scientific  brethren  united  in  giving  the  priority 
to  Dr.  Danais  Archippus,  who  doubtless  classed  the 
dog-bane  with  the  milk-weed  ages  before  the  world 
knew  a  human  botanist. 


NTOMOLOGY  extends  the  limits  of  being  in  a  new 
direction,  so  that  I  -walk  in  Nature  with  a  sense 
of  greater  space  and  freedom.  It  suggests,  be- 
.  sides,  that  the  universe  is  not  rough -hewn,  but 
perfect  in  its  details.  Nature  will  bear  the  closest  inspec- 
tion ;  she  invites  us  to  lay  our  eye  level  with  the  smallest 
leaf  and  take  an  insect  view  of  its  plain.  She  has  no  in- 
terstices ;  every  part  is  full  of  life. ' ' — THOREAU. 


POISON-SUMACHS   AND 

HARMLESS  WOODBINE 

June  2jd 

HAVE  been  thinking  that  one  who  urges 
his  troop  of  boy  friends  to  an  indiscrim- 
inate quest  among  the  woods,  meadows, 
and  copses  takes  a  great  responsibility 
upon  himself  if  he  fails  to  caution  them  of  the 
dangers  which  they  are  certain  to  meet.  I  do  not 
speak  of  wild-cats  or  snakes,  but  of  a  much  more 
sly  and  perilous  foe,  the  poison-sumachs,  which  lurk  in 
every  corner,  and  seem  to  lie  in  wait  for  their  victims 
by  every  wall  and  in  every  thicket. 

There  is  one  page  of  botany  which  every  dweller  in 
the  country  should  learn.  The  short  chapter  on  the 
Rhus,  or  sumach,  is  easily  committed  to  memory,  and  a 
few  moments'  study  will  equip  any  boy  to  meet  the 
dangerous  tribe  on  their  own  ground  and  give  them  a 
welcome  or  a  wide  berth,  as  they  may  deserve. 


90  SHARP    EYES 

There  are  five  species  of  sumach  which  are  more  or 
less  common  in  the  eastern  United  States.  The  sixth 
species  of  the  genus,  Rhus  aromatica,  being  especially 
found  westward.  Of  these  but  two  are  poisonous — the 
RJnis  venenata  and  the  Rhus  toxicodcndron. 

The  first  of  these  is  a  truly  venomous  plant,  frequent- 
ing swamps  and  wet  thickets,  where  its  foliage  blends 
with  the  alders  and  willows.  It  bears  the  popular 
names  of  poison-sumach,  poison-dogwood,  and  poison- 
elder,  and  is  a  shrub  varying  from  six  to  twenty-five 
feet  in  height,  with  foliage  as  suggested  in  the  accom- 
panying introductory  illustration,  consisting  of  about 
five  pairs  of  opposite  and  a  terminal  leaflet,  the  form 
called  "  odd  pinnate  "  in  our  botanies.  To  the  ordinary 
observer  it  appears  somewhat  like  the  other  sumachs, 
though  on  careful  examination  it  will  be  seen  to  have 
a  distinct,  pert,  mischievous,  "all  on  end"  look  about 
it,  caused  by  a  peculiar  upward  inclination  of  the  leaf- 
lets. Its  swampy  haunts  should  also  serve  in  a  meas- 
ure to  identify  it ;  and  though  in  the  summer  it  might 
easily  be  encountered  unawares,  in  the  autumn  it  need 
never  so  waylay  us,  for,  as  Thoreau  says,  "  it  blazes  its 
sins  as  scarlet "  in  its  haunts,  and  is  conspicuous. 

The  other  poisonous  species,  Rhus  toxicodcndron, 
would  scarcely  be  considered  a  sumach  at  all  by  the 
ordinary  observer;  its  popular  name  of  "poison-ivy" 
being  quite  expressive  of  its  peculiar  habit  of  growth. 
The  other  common  name  of  "  poison  oak  "  applied  to 
the  same  plant  would  seem  to  be  rather  inconsistent 
with  the  first,  but  the  two  are  scarcely  as  inconsistent  as 
they  appear,  for  the  Rhus  toxicodendron  masquerades  in 
a  variety  of  guises  both  as  to  foliage  and  manner  of 
growth,  the  two  extremes  being  so  widely  at  variance  as 


almost  to  entitle  the  forms 
to  be  considered  as  distinct 
species,  and  which  have  been 
so  presented  by  some  botan- 
ists, Rhus  toxicodendron  in  the 
bushy  form,  Rhus  radicans  when 
climbing.     Here,  for  instance,  is  a 
thick    shrub    with    somewhat    oak- 
like   leaflets  growing   in   the    open 
meadow.      Here    a    bramble -like 
screen    creeping    over    the    rocks. 
Here  in  the  woods  an  ivy-like  vine, 
its  foliage   concealing   the  trunk  of 
the  tree  upon  which  it  climbs,  and  with  its  brown, 
hairy,  snake -like  stem  circling  about  the  limbs  to 
which  it  clings  like  a  parasite. 

This  singularly  hairy  trunk  has  often  been  men- 
tioned as  a  feature  by  which  to  identify  the  plant,  but 
it  is  of  little  reliance.  You  will  not  find  it  in  the  bush, 
in  the  meadow,  nor  in  the  slender  sprays  among  the 
rocks ;  for  there  it  often  takes  the  form  of  a  root,  and 
is  found  under  ground. 

One  favorite  haunt  of  the  ivy  is  the  stone  wall ;  and 


92  SHARP    EYES 

another,  the  fence.  In  the  latter  haunt  it  often  thrives 
very  luxuriantly,  enveloping  the  decaying  post  in  the 
coils  of  its  brown  shaggy  trunk,  and  sending  out  smooth, 
bush -like  branches  from  the  summit  quite  in  the  man- 
ner of  the  true  European  ivy,  not  as  we  see  it  in  this 
country,  where  it  usually  clings  close  to  its  wall,  but 
as  it  everywhere  luxuriates  among  the  castle  and  abbey 
ruins  of  the  Old  World. 

This  last  habit  of  the  poison -ivy  occasionally  gives 
rise  to  a  singular  tree-like  form.  I  recall  one  such  spec- 
imen, which  is  possibly  a  hundred  years  old,  and  though 
no  vestige  of  a  fence  now  marks  its  neighborhood,  it 
was  doubtless  once  fostered  on  a  fence-post  which  has 
become  obliterated  in  decay. 

But  there  need  be  no  trouble  in  identifying  the  poi- 
son-ivy in  any  of  its  forms.  The  hairy  trunk  will  often 
serve  us,  but  there  are  two  other  features  which  are  of 
much  more  value. 

First  let  us  remember  that  its  leaves  are  always 
grouped  in  threes  whatever  the  outlines  of  their  more 
or  less  wavy  margins. 

In  some  sections  the  plant  is  always  called  the  "  three- 
leaved  ivy."  And  this  naturally  leads  me  to  a  consider- 
ation of  that  other  vine  with  similar  habits  which  is 
commonly  known  in  the  same  localities  as  the  "five- 
leaved  ivy,"  and  a  leaf  of  which  I  have  here  pictured 
(see  tail-piece). 

This  is  a  leaf  of  the  Ampelopsis  qiiinque-folia  (quinque- 
folia  —  five  leaves),  also  called  Virginia  creeper  and 
woodbine.  Look  at  the  leaf,  and  fix  its  form  in  your 
mind.  This  is  one  of  our  most  beautiful  native  climb- 
ers. It  is  allied  to  the  grape-vine,  is  perfectly  harm- 
less, and  is  the  one  innocent  victim  that  has  to  suffer 


POISON-SUMACHS   AND    HARMLESS  WOODBINE 


93 


from  suspicion,  being  often  destroyed  under  the  impres- 
sion that  it  is  the  "  poison-ivy." 

The  writer  knew  of  a  person  who  possessed  a  beautiful 
home  upon  the  Hudson,  and  whose  deficiency  in  knowl- 
edge of  this  one  little  page  of  botany  cost  him  a  severe 
loss.  His  children  were  suddenly  prostrated  with  ivy- 
poisoning,  and  one  of  his  "ninth  hour"  neighbors  came 
in  to  offer  him  some  learned  advice — something  in  this 
style,  as  it  was  narrated  to  me: 

"Well,  Squire,  it's  fetched  'em  at  last.  I've  been 
tellin'  Betsy  all  along  that  the  pesky  stuff  would  ketch 
ye  arter  a  while.  Well,  thar,  goodness  and  truth !  Time 
an'  time  agin,  when  I've  been  goin'  by  the  gate  an'  seen 
them  air  children  playin'  in  the  summer-house  yender, 
it's  made  me  feel  'tarnal  ticklish,  an'  I've  sed  time  and 
agin,  an'  tole  Betsy  so  tew,  that  I'd  bet  my  best  gobbler 
they'd  be  broke  out  afore  a  week,  an'  now  they've  done 
it;  an'  if  you  take  my  advice,  you'll  cut  the  pesky  weed 
down  an'  burn  it  afore  the  hull  on  ye  is  ketched.  You 
needn't  look  so  surprised,  Squire.  What  I'm 
tellin'  ye  is  fer  yure  own  good.  That  air  weed  is 
pizen-shumake,  an'  it'll  nigh  on  to  kill  some  folks." 

Such  advice,  coming  from  a  practical  farmer 
in  whom  the  "  Squire  "  had  perfect  confidence, 
was   immediately   acted    upon.      The    vines 
which  had  embowered  the  beautiful  arbor  for 
a  generation  were  sawed  off  at  the  ground. 
And  to  think  that  a  peep  into  the  botany 
might  have  saved  them! 

Four   things   need   to  be  committed    to 
memory  to  insure  safety  against  our  poison- 
sumachs  : 

First.  The  poison-ivy  has  three  leaves. 


Q4  SHARP    EYES 

Second.    The  five-leaved  is  harmless. 

Tliird.  The  poison-sumachs  have  white  berries. 

Fourth.  No  red-berried  sumach  is  poisonous. 

Both  the  poison-ivy  and  the  poison-sumach,  though 
unlike  in  appearance  of  foliage,  have  similar  ^v]lite  ber- 
ries growing  in  small  slender  clusters  from  the  axils  of 
the  leaves.  In  all  other  sumachs  the  berries  are  red, 
even  in  the  other  three-leaved  species  RJius  aromatica, 
and  in  close  bunches  at  the  ends  of  the  branches,  and 
far  from  being  dangerous,  yield  a  frosty- looking  acid 
which  is  most  agreeable  to  the  taste,  and  wholesome 
withal. 

With  these  simple  precepts  fixed  in  the  mind,  no  one 
need  fear  the  dangers  of  the  thickets.  But  for  the  ben- 
efit of  that  numerous  class  who  "  can't  remember  which 
it  is,  whether  the  five-leaved  or  the  three-leaved  that 
is  poisonous,"  I  would  offer  the  following  simple  six- 
line  jingle,  which  may  easily  be  committed  to  memory 
and  will  prove  an  ever-ready  guide  in  their  walks: 

Berries  red, 
Have  no  dread ! 
Berries  white, 
Poisonous  sight! 
Leaves  three, 
guickly  flee ! 

a  perfectly  safe  mental  talisman  against  danger.  But 
to  which  I  may  also  add  as  a  postscript,  in  considera- 
tion of  the  one  Jiannless  three-leaved  species,  Rhus  aro- 
matica,  which  is  else  under  the  ban : 

Leaves  three,  with  berries  red, 
Fragrant  sumach,  have  no  dread. 


POISON-SUMACHS   AND    HARMLESS    WOODBINE  95 

No  account  is  here  taken  of  the  jive-leaved  because 
it  is  not  a  sumach,  and  need  not  trouble  us.  With  this 
at  one's  tongue's  end,  no  one  need  repeat  the  hazard- 
ous exploit  of  two  young  ladies  whom  I  know,  one  of 
whom,  as  a  committee  on  church  decoration  in  a  coun- 
try town,  brought  her  arms  full  of  the  scarlet  autumn 
branches  of  the  venomous  sumach;  while  the  other  once 
sent  the  writer  a  really  beautiful  group  of  carefully  ar- 
ranged rare  grasses  and  mosses  generously  decked  with 
the  white  berries  of  the  poison-ivy.  Both  of  these  rash 
maidens,  I  believe,  paid  the  severe  penalty  of  their 
botanical  innocence. 

The  harmless  "Virginia-creeper"  is  occasionally  a  law 
unto  itself  as  to  the  number  of  leaflets,  not  contenting 
itself  with  the  five  prescribed  in  its  natural  christening. 
A  correspondent  recently  sent  me  a  dozen  or  more 
leaves  of  this  plant  presenting  the  unusual  multiplica- 
tion of  its  leaflets  to  six,  seven,  eight,  and  even  nine  in 
one  instance,  all  of  course  springing  from  the  central 
common  stem,  as  in  the  appended  illustration  of  the 
typical  leaf,  an  innocent  plant  which  every  lover  ot  the 
country  should  recognize  as  a  friend  rather  than  aft 
enemy. 


THE 
AWAKENING   MUMMIES 

June  jot/i 

HAT  an  odd  dumb-show  is  going 
on  out  here  under  the  oak-trees 
in  the  woods !  for  almost  any  day 
now,  if  our  eyes  are  sharp  enough, 
we  may  surprise  some  such  quaint 
family  party  as  this  which  is  here  pictured.  Now  an  in- 
dividual with  its  brown  head  just  protruding  from  the 
ground,  and  here  another  half-way  emerged  and  quietly 
squirming  in  the  opening  of  its  tunnel,  or,  perhaps,  hav- 
ing made  its  exit,  lying  quietly  on  the  ground  near  by. 
Still  farther  beyond  we  may  discover  another  which 
seems  to  have  yielded  up  the  ghost,  being  entirely  emp- 
ty and  open  at  the  summit  —  a  mere  dry  shell.  What 
does  it  all  mean?  A  strange  resurrection  certainly! 

Let  us  search  carefully  among  the  herbage  close  by, 
for  we  may  be  sure  that  the  beautiful  moth  which  so 
lately  tenanted  this  uninviting  dwelling  is  somewhere 
to  be  found.  Its  wings  are  semitransparent  in  texture 
and  of  an  ochre-yellow  color,  speckled  and  banded  with 
purple,  with  a  yellow  spot  in  the  centre  of  the  upper 
pair,  and  will  expand  nearly  three  inches. 


. 

An  hour  ago  this  fuzzy  creature  nestled  snugly  in 
yonder  mummy  standing  in  its  burrow,  and  when  the 
twilight  steals  through  the  woods  it  will  expand  its 
filmy  wings,  and  later,  perhaps,  flutter  about  the  even- 
ing lamp  upon  our  table.  It  is  the  pretty  oak-moth 
(Dryocampa  senatorid),  a  common  insect  known  to  near- 
ly all  juvenile  collectors,  but  not  all  of  them  have  seen 
the  little  pantomime  of  the  chrysalids  beneath  the  trees. 

The  episode  affords  an  illustration  of  an  interesting 
resource  in  the  lives  of  many  insects  whose  transforma- 
tions take  place  underground. 

The  black  and  yellow  striped  caterpillars  of  the  Dry- 
ocampa live  in  swarms  upon  the  oaks,  often  completely 
stripping  the  boughs  of  foliage.  When  full  grown — 
at  which  time  they  will  measure  some  two  inches  in 
length — they  descend  from  the  trees,  and  burrow  in  the 
ground  to  the  depth  of  several  inches,  and  within  an 


98  SHARP    EYES 

oval  cavity,  which  they  form  by  persistent  squirming, 
are  transformed  to  chrysalids,  which  will  average  about 
an  inch  and  a  quarter  in  length.  Here  they  remain 
through  the  winter,  and  in  the  last  of  June  and  begin- 
ning of  July,  the  moth  being  then  almost  ready  to 
emerge,  they  work  their  way  to  the  surface  of  the 
ground,  and  this  explains  my  queer  pantomime  under 
the  oak-trees.  The  ground  beneath  almost  any  oak 
which  has  been  known  to  be  infested  with  the  cater- 
pillars is  certain  to  contain  a  number  of  the  chrysalids, 
and  if  such  a  spot  in  the  woods  be  carefully  cleared  of 
leaves  with  a  rake  in  early  June,  the  search,  during  the 
following  weeks  until  the  middle  of  July,  is  quite  cer- 
tain to  be  rewarded. 

There  are  other  exactly  similar  chrysalids  from  the 
same  group  (Dryocampa)  which  you  are  quite  as  likely 
to  find  —  that  of  the  "rosy  moth,"  perhaps,  whose  cater- 
pillars live  upon  the  maple. 


A  WINGED   GEM 


June  joth 

HIS  is  the  week  when  we  may  go  pros- 
pecting for  our  first  specimens  of  gold 
and  emeralds,  for  the  copses  and  old  stone 
walls  will  soon  prove  mines  of  wealth  lit- 
erally begemmed  with  jewels.  We  have 
seen  many  entomological  enthusiasts  who  have  exclaim- 
ed with  wonder  and  admiration  at  the  brilliant  beetle 
of  the  tropics,  little  dreaming  that  a  few  moments'  walk 
along  their  own  garden  fence  perhaps  might  have  shown 
them  a  hundred  native  specimens  which  may  challenge 
the  Brazilian  species  for  brilliancy.  We  have  two  not- 
able examples,  and  while  neither  of  them  is  very  large, 
they  are  marvels  of  glitter  and  refulgence. 

There  is  the  little  gold  beetle,  for  instance,  which 
should  have  the  first  place — Cassida  aurichalcea.  Where 
can  he  be  matched  in  the  world  for  the  pure  lustre  of 
burnished  gold?  He  is  the  brightest  gem  of  concen- 
trated metallic  glitter  that  the  whole  beetle  kingdom 


IOO 


SHARP    EYES 


can  show ;  and  yet  who  ever  sees  him,  even  though  in 
one  short  walk  in  the  country  lane  he  may  have  passed 
perhaps  ten  thousand  of  them — a  gold  mine  in  truth? 
During  the  coming  week  the  Cassida  will  be  with  us. 
But  where  shall  we  look  for  him  ?     Wherever  the  pink- 
blossomed   bind -weed  blooms  he  also   is   sure    to  be 
found.     This  vine  often  clothes  the  stone  walls  for  sev- 
eral  yards    beneath  its  arrow-shaped    leaves.      These 
leaves  are  generally  more  or  less  perforated  with  small 
holes;  and  if  we  quickly  turn  them  one  by  one,  or,  stoop- 
ing, look  beneath  them,  we  may  surprise  the  tiny  creat- 
ure feeding,  and  appearing  like  a  drop  of  molten  gold, 
clinging   like  dew  to   the  leaf.     But   you 
must  be  quick  if  you  would  capture  him, 
for  he  is  off  in  a  spangling  streak  of 
glitter.     Nor  is  this  golden  sheen  all 
the   resource   of   the    little   insect ; 

•  •i&-»v> 

.^WK 

.*     ^    ' 

/.: 


A   WINGED   GEM  IOI 

for  in  the  space  of  a  few  seconds,  as  you  hold  him  in 
your  hand,  he  has  become  a  milky,  iridescent  opal,  and 
now  mother-of-pearl,  and  finally  crawls  before  you  in 
a  coat  of  dull  orange. 

A  few  of  the  beetles  kept  in  a  box  and  supplied  with 
leaves,  changing  from  gilt  to  mother-of-pearl  or  dull 
coral,  as  the  whim  suits  them,  are  an  interesting  study. 

Beneath  the  bind -weed  leaves  one  may  also  find 
numbers  of  small  black  larvae  with  a  singular  black  lat- 
tice held  suspended  flat  over  their  backs  upon  their 
forked  tails.  These  are  the  inconspicuous  and  uncouth 
grubs  from  which  our  golden  beetles  have  sprung,  and  a 
little  search  among  the  leaves  will  also  disclose  numbers 
of  the  tiny  chrysalids  suspended  by  their  tails. 

Don't  let  the  summer  pass  without  making  the  ac- 
quaintance of  the  Cassida.  After  the  1st  of  July  he 
may  be  found  until  late  autumn.  You  must  see  him  at 
home  if  you  would  see  him  at  all,  for  the  dead  insect 
loses  all  this  wondrous  lustre.  The  wild  bind-weed  is 
the  favorite  haunt  of  the  insect,  but  the  cultivated 
morning-glory  even  about  our  porch  is  often  begemmed 
with  these  living  jewels  without  our  having  suspected 
their  presence. 


THE   DOG-BANE   JEWEL 


June  jotk 

HE  only  rival  of  the  Cassida,  just  de- 
scribed, the  "green  dandy"  (Eumolpus 
auratiis)  is  quite  as  common  and  even 
more  conspicuous,  though  he  is  to  be 
found  only  upon  his  single  favorite  plant,  the  dog-bane. 
If  the  reader  does  not  know  the  dog-bane  plant  (Apo- 
cymini  androsceniifoliuni),  the  accompanying  sketch  will 
serve  to  identify  it,  with  its  bell -shaped  pink  and  fra- 
grant flowers  and  long  pods.  It  is  a  quite  common 
plant,  and  favors  the  border  thickets  of  woods  and  lanes 
and  old  walls. 

During  the  coming  week  the  dog-bane  begins  to  deck 
its  jewels,  and  the  botanist  is  quite  likely  to  find  himself 
studying  entomology  instead  of  his  favorite  pursuit  as 
he  plucks  his  specimen  of  dog-bane,  and  discovers  its 
leaves  studded  with  glittering  emeralds  and  rubies.  For 
the  dog-bane  beetle  is  not  golden -yellow  like  the  Cas- 
sida,  as  its  scientific  name  implies.  It  is  not  easy  to 
describe  its  brilliant,  burnished  hue,  which  is  either  shim- 
mering green,  or  peacock-blue,  or  purplish-green,  or  re- 
fulgent ruby,  according  to  the  position  in  which  it  rests. 


THE    DOG-BANE   JEWEL 


103 


The  beetle  is  nearly  half  an  inch  long,  and  is  unsur- 
passed in  the  intensity  of  its  color  by  any  native  insect 
of  its  tribe,  while  it  suffers  little  by  comparison  even 
with  some  of  the  most  brilliant  tropical  species. 

As  with  the  Cassida,  the  collector  must  act  with 
promptness  in  capturing  the  beetle,  for  while  it  lacks 
the  agile  wing  of  the  gold -beetle,  it  has  an  odd  trick  of 
drawing  up  its  legs  and  dropping  among  the  grass  as 
you  would  lay  your  hand  upon  it. 

Unlike  the  preceding,  the  intense  color  of  the  dog- 
bane beetle  is  perfectly  retained  in  the  cabinet  speci- 
men, and  a  few  of  them  judiciously  disposed  add  greatly 
to  the  effect  of  a  collection  of  insects. 


THOSE   HAZEL   PACKETS 

Jtdy  7th 

••jit J*aj«'\ \  OR  years  I  have  seen  these  curious  pack- 
ets  on  the  hazel,  and  similar  ones  on  the 
alder.     I  have    found   them  by  the   dozens 
brown  and  dry,  and  needing  only  a  touch  to 
dislodge   them  as  they  hung  from   their  at- 

tachment;  and  I  have  found  them  fresh  and 

green,  as  if  the  mysterious  clerk  that  had 
done  them  up  had  left  them  for  a  moment  to  get  a 
string.  But  no  matter  how  patiently  I  waited  for  him, 
he  never  would  return,  and  for  years  his  identity  was  a 
complete  mystery.  Last  summer  I  determined  to  catch 
him  at  his  work,  and  I  did ;  and  am  now  able  to  give 
some  account  of  his  clever  hocus-pocus  —  or  rather,  I 
should  say  her  hocus-pocus,  for  my  little  clerk  proved 
to  be  feminine.  If  the  reader  has  never  seen  any  of 
these  curious  little  packages  hanging  upon  the  hazel 
and  alder  bushes,  they  are  well  worth  looking  up. 
They  may  be  found  all  summer,  and  occasionally  are 
to  be  seen  by  dozens  on  a  single  bush.  In  each  case 
the  same  method  has  been  adopted,  the  leaf  being  first 
folded  face  to  face  along  the  midrib,  and  then  tightly 
rolled  from  tip  to  stem,  and  here  retained  in  its  com- 


THOSE    HAZEL    PACKETS 


105 


pact  coil  by  a  true  touch  of  jugglery,  for  there  is  no 
resort  to  pin  or  string,  nor  even  a  web  to  be  seen. 

There  is  a  real  knack  about  it  all,  as  we  may  very 
easily  learn    by  trying   to    do    up 
one  of  the  packages  ourselves. 

I    had    long    suspected    a    tiny 
brown    beetle,  which  I   had    occa- 
sionally observed  suspiciously  near 
the  bundles,  as   their  author,  and 
last    summer    I    was     fortunate 
enough  to  see  my  suspicions  ver- 
ified.     Chancing    upon    a    hazel 
bush  which  was  hanging  full  with 
the  little  packets,  many  of  which 
were   still    fresh    and    green,  a 
careful   search    disclosed    one 
of    the    tiny   insects    at    its 
work,. and  here  is  the  proc- 
ess,  the    secret    magic    tie, 
and    the    deep-laid    plan 
which   it  all  involves :    The 
beetle    first    bites    through 
the    leaf  to    the    mid -vein 
close  to  the  stern,  and  par- 
tially   through    the    midrib 
also,    leaving    barely    suffi- 
cient of  the  same  to  retain 
the  weight  of  the  leaf,  which 
soon  wilts  in  the  hot   sun, 
and  in  its  limp  condition  is 
ready  to   be   rolled.      It    is 
then    folded    face    to    face 
along  the  mid-vein,  the  bee- 


IC»6  SHARP    EYES 

tie  compressing  it  with  its  legs.  A  tiny  yellow  egg  is 
then  deposited  at  the  extreme  tip,  and  the  weevil, 
standing  sideways,  and  holding  firmly  to  the  leaf  with 
its  upper  feet,  passes  its  three  lower  legs  beneath,  and 
starts  the  fold,  the  roll  being  thus  carried  to  the  sum, 
mit,  the  insect  alternately  taking  a  fresh  grip  farther 
up  the  leaf  with  each  successive  pull.  Upon  reaching 
the  top,  a  loose  cut  edge  of  the  leaf  is  turned  backward 
to  overlap  the  last  fold  of  the  coil,  and  thus  serves  to 
hold  it  in  place.  Without  this  deft  touch  the  coil 
would  unroll.  The  bundle  soon  bakes  brown  in  the 
hot  sun,  and  shortly  falls  to  the  ground.  The  tiny  egg 
subsequently  hatches  into  a  minute  grub,  which  feeds 
upon  the  dried  interior,  and  at  length,  the  following 
spring,  emerges  a  perfect  beetle. 

I  have  seen  the  ground  beneath  the  alder  bushes 
strewn  thickly  with  the  little  packets,  hundreds  of  them 
in  a  small  space ;  and,  considering  the  industry  and 
number  of  the  package  clerks,  it  is  singular  that  I  could 
have  waited  so  long  to  discover  them  ;  but  this  is  ex- 
plained in  a  sly  trait  of  the  beetle,  which  cuddles  up  its 
legs  and  drops  to  the  ground  on  your  approach,  unless 
you  are  very  wary. 


'    THE  SCOURING-GRASS   AND 
ITS  SQUIRMING   SPORES 

July  7th 

)COURING-GRASS  (Equisetuin)  was  much 
more  intimately  known  to  the  early  Pil- 
grim housewives  than  it  is  to  their  de- 
scendants, for  in  the  olden  time  its  hollow, 
flinty  stems  were  in  great  repute  for  kitch- 
en-cleaning purposes.  A  glance  at  the 
accompanying  sketch  will  serve  to  recall 
the  plants  to  those  who  are  unfamiliar  with  their  name, 
and  to  such  I  can  recommend  them  as  genuine  curiosi- 
ties in  many  ways,  and  well  worthy  a  little  study.  Our 
scouring- grass  possesses  many  peculiarities  which  its 
old-time  friends  little  suspected.  To  the  botanist  it  is 
especially  interesting  not  only  as  a  modern  type  of  that 
ancient  class  of  plants  which  formed  the  chief  vegeta- 
tion of  the  carboniferous  era,  but  also  on  account  of  its 
squirming  spores,  which  have  long  been  a  favorite  study 
of  the  microscopist. 

The  scouring- rush  belongs  to  the  tribe  of  flowerless 
and    seedless   plants  —  Acrogens.     In    the  botany  it   is 


IO8  SHARP    EYES 

named  Equisetum,  or  "  horse-tail."  In  place  of  seeds,  it 
perpetuates  its  kind  by  the  aid  of  spores,  which  are 
secreted  in  the  fruit-like  heads  at  the  tips  of  the  stems, 
and  when  ripe  are  shed  in  clouds  in  the  wind.  Each 
fruiting  head  is  composed  of  a  compact  arrangement  of 
six-sided  cells,  and  beneath  each  of  these  the  spores  are 
formed.  They  float  out  like  yellow  dust  upon  every 
passing  breeze.  But  it  is  lively  dust,  indeed.  Let  us 
pick  this  opening  fruit,  and  shake  a  little  of  the  powder 
upon  the  glass  of  our  pocket  microscope.  Upon  look- 
ing through  the  lens  we  see  a  myriad  of  motionless  yel- 
low spheres  covering  the  field ;  but  in  a  moment  it 
becomes  a  wriggling,  squirming  mass  of  life,  and  in  a 
moment  more  the  entire  legion  are  jumping  for  free- 
dom, and  sailing  off  with  their  buoyant  wings.  A  pinch 
or  so  of  the  spores  shaken  in  the  hollow  of  the  hand 
appears  like  mere  yellow  powder;  but  even  with  the 
naked  eye,  after  the  lapse  of  a  half-minute  or  so,  it  may 
be  seen  to  transform,  gradually  swelling  to  a  bed  of  yel- 
low downy  fuzz,  occupying  several  times  the  space  of 
the  original  powder.  If  a  drop  of  water  is  allowed  to 
fall  upon  it,  the  fuzzy  tuft  appears  to  melt  and  contract; 
and  as  the  water  evaporates,  the  same  downy  develop- 
ment is  repeated.  A  person  seeing  these  squirming  le- 
gions in  the  microscope  for  the  first  time  would  cer- 
tainly suppose  he  was  looking  upon  the  liveliest  swarm 
of  living  animalculae.  Alive  they  certainly  are;  but,  in 
spite  of  appearances,  the  curious  objects  are  mere  vege- 
table spores  endowed  with  this  singular  faculty  to  in- 
sure their  propagation.  When  first  seen  upon  the  mi- 
croscopic slide  they  appear  as  yellow  spheres  circled 
with  four  small  ridges ;  but  as  the  whim  takes  them, 
these  ridges  suddenly  uncoil,  and  after  a  brief  period  of 


THE   SCOURING-GRASS    AND    ITS    SQUIRMING    SPORES 

. 

twisting  and  wriggling  the  spores 
leap  from  the  glass,  and  the  wind 
then  takes  care  of  them. 

The  secret  of  it  all  is  very  sim- 
ple, however.  These  strange  antics 
being  merely  the  singu- 


109 


lar  hygrometric  result  of 
evaporation  from  the  four 
filaments,  for  a  drop  of 
water  or  even  a  careful  breath 
will  cause  them  all  to  coil  up  as 
when  packed  in  the  cone.  This 
curious  exhibition  may  be  seen 
by  almost  any  one,  as  the  various 
species  of  Equiseta  are  quite  com- 
mon in  swampy  districts  every- 
where, and  a  simple  pocket  micro- 
scope, or  even  a  strong  magnifying- 
glass  is  sufficient  to  show  the 
phenomenon  distinctly,  in  itself  a 
sufficient  quest  for  a  walk  at  the 
edge  of  the  brook  or  swamp. 


THE  STONE   SKELETON   OF 
THE  SCOURING-RUSH 

fttty  7th 


MUST  not  omit  a  further,  allusion  to  the 
other  very  interesting  structural  feature 
of  our  scouring- rushes,  particularly  as  it 
explains  this  popular  christening,  which 
is  especially  applied  to  one  particular 
species — E.  hyemale. 

The  plant  consists  of  a  hollow  jointed 
main  stem  like  the  others,  but  without  the  circular  clus- 
ters— whorls — of  fringe -like  branches,  and  often  grows 
to  the  height  of  three  feet  and  the  diameter  of  a  lead- 
pencil.  It  was  from  these  that  our  old-time  housewives 
made  the  scouring- brushes  for  their  tins  and  kettles, 
already  alluded  to. 

The  stems  are  hollow,  and  easily  separate  at  the 
joints;  and  if  we  would  satisfy  ourselves  of  the  peculiar 
property  which  suggested  their  use  for  scouring  pur- 
poses, we  need  only  draw  one  of  their  joints  across  the 
edge  of  our  teeth  to  be  convinced.  It  is  like  a  file.  It 


THE   STONE    SKELETON    OF    THE    SCOURING-RUSH  I  I  I 

is,  in  fact,  as  much  a  mineral  as  a  vegetable  tube  that 
we  have  here,  as  may  be  shown  by  a  very  pretty  chem- 
ical experiment. 

If  we  take  a  small  vial  of  nitric  acid  and  immerse  any 
ordinary  leaf  therein,  we  shall  quickly  see  it  dissolve 
— literally  eaten  up  by  the  acid.  But  what  does  the 
scouring-grass  do  under  such  treatment?  Immediately 
upon  its  introduction  to  the  acid  the  sizzling  process 
begins ;  the  green  pulp  of  the  stem  is  gradually  con- 
sumed, the  tube,  however,  still  retaining  its  shape,  be- 
coming paler  and  paler  in  color,  until,  after  a  few  hours, 
our  specimen  is  transformed  into  a  pure  white  alabas- 
ter-like column,  which  defies  any  further  attack  from 
the  acid.  Upon  taking  it  from  the  vial  and  washing  it 
carefully  in  running  water  we  hold  in  our  hands  a  beau- 
tiful tube  of  pure  glassy  flint  or  silex,  and  an  object  of 
great  microscopic  beauty  of  construction.  Our  scour- 
ing-rush  is  no  longer  a  vegetable,  but  a  mineral,  and, 
in  its  skeleton  of  stone,  we  easily  understand  the  secret 
of  its  utility  as  a  scouring -brush. 


**> 


QUEER   FRUITS 
FROM   THE    BEE'S   BASKET 

July  I4th 

ONSIEUR  COBWEB  .  .  .  kill  me  a 
red -hipped  bumblebee  on  the  top 
of  a  thistle,"  says  Bottom  to  the 
fairy  in  Midsummer-Night's  Dream. 
And  Titania  urges  the  fairies  to  a  sim- 
ilar warfare  against  the  bees  : 


"The  honey- bags  steal  from  the  humblebees, 
And,  for  night -tapers,  crop  their  waxen  thighs," 

but  Shakespeare  gave  expression  to  a  very  common  er- 
ror when  he  implied  that  these  "  thighs "  of  the  bee 
were  laden  with  wax.  The  bee,  whether  the  honey-bee 
or  the  humblebee,  has  two  distinct  errands  in  his  visits 
to  the  blossoms.  "  He  gathers  honey  all  the  day,"  'tis 
true,  but  he  also  plunders  the  flower  of  its  golden  pol- 
len at  the  same  time,  as  we  all  know,  from  the  plump 
"  baskets  "  which  we  see  him  carrying  as  he  hies  back 
to  the  hive. 

But  these  yellow  "saddle-bags"  are  not  "wax,"  as 
Shakespeare  implies,  nor  have  they  any  connection  with 
the  structure  of  the  honey -comb.  They  are,  in  truth, 


tiny  baskets  filled  with 
"bread"  for  the  hungry 
bee-babes  in  the  hive. 
And  a  most  singular  diet 
it  is  that  is  served  to  those 
young  epicures ! 

Let  us  catch  this  busy 
bee  as  it  hums  by 
on  its  way  to  the      <- 
hive.     The    little   "^-^ 
brush  of  hairs  on 
each    of    its    hind 
legs  is  packed  solid  with 
the  sticky  mass  of  yellow  pow- 
der, and  a  singular  record  it  is 
of  the  life  of  the  little  insect  that 
carries  it !     If  we  dislodge  even  the 
smallest   fragment  of  it,  and  mois- 
ten it  in  a  drop  of  water  upon  the 
glass    of    our    pocket- microscope, 
what    an    assortment    of    curious 
vegetables!     Why,  the  grocer's  or 


114  SHARP    EYES 

fruiterer's  display  upon  the  sidewalk  is  not  a  circum- 
stance to  it.  There  seems  to  be  no  limit  to  the  vari- 
eties of  rare  and  curious  fruits  which  this  busy  bee 
manages  to  find  in  his  visits  to  the  flowers.  Here  are 
tiny  melons  and  eggs  and  pears,  prickly  oranges,  and 
decorated  marbles,  queer  tea-boxes,  bomb-shells,  bricks, 
and  odd  sorts  of  packages  of  all  kinds. 

It  is  true  that  this  particular  bee  which  we  have  capt- 
ured may  have  shown  a  partiality  for  some  special 
form  of  fruit  for  this  one  week.  Next  week  he  will 
give  his  little  ones  a  change,  and  again  the  week  follow- 
ing, or  with  a  special  bill  of  fare,  perhaps,  from  day  to 
day.  But  at  any  time  we  are  sure  to  find  quite  a  vari- 
ety of  choice  foreign  fruits  in  his  basket.  Indeed,  are 
they  not  all  foreign  to  most  of  us?  I  have  pictured  a 
few,  and  the  reader  can  decide  for  himself;  and  while 
he  need  scarcely  expect  to  find  this  full  assortment  in  a 
single  field  of  his  microscope,  he  is  quite  likely  to  find 
some  of  them  ;  and  if  not,  is  certain  to  see  still  other 
forms  of  equal  strangeness  and  interest. 

Did  you  ever  imagine  for  a  moment  what  a  display 
of  rare  watermelons  your  fair  friend  has  sported  on  the 
tip  of  her  nose  after  one  close  sniff  of  the  meadow-lily? 
Look  at  the  microscope  slide  and  be  convinced. 

In  the  foreground  of  my  group  there  is  a  singular 
three -lobed  affair  which  is  from  the  enchanter's  night- 
shade. A  little  to  the  right  of  this  is  another  trian- 
gular shape.  Who  would  ever  suppose  that  this  webby 
pollen  of  the  twilight  primrose  was  made  up  of  such 
particles  as  these?  The  generous  mountain-laurel  gives 
us  four  tiny  oranges  in  a  bunch ;  for  such  is  the  singular 
atom  which  those  jumping  stamens  scatter  upon  the 
soft  wings  of  twilight  moths.  That  curved  specimen 


QUEER    FRUITS    FROM    THE    BEE'S    BASKET 


with  spherical  ends  is  blown  by  myriads  from  the  blos- 
soms of  the  pine,  as  is  also  the  funny  pepper-box  far 
above,  though  you  need  not  expect  to  find  either  of 
them  in  our  bee's  basket,  for  the  wind  always  takes  care 
of  these.  Above  this  is  seen  a  grain  from  the  garlic 
flower,  and  the  spirally  grooved  sphere  of  the  musk 
flower  is  shown  beyond.  The  prickly  form  which  is 
shown  at  the  left  is  the  tiny  explosive  bomb  from  the 
big  melon  blossom,  blowing  oft"  one  of  its  caps  and  dis- 
charging its  powdery  contents;  the  smooth -banded 
prickly  specimen  at  the 
centre  is  a  similar  prod- 
uct of  another  of  the 
melon  tribe  —  the  com- 
mon wild  star  cucum- 
ber, whose  clambering 
vine  screens  many  a 
fence  by  country  lane 
or  roadside.  Between 
these  melon  tokens  we 
see  the  pretty  many- 
sided  box  which  is  turn- 
ed out  by  the  thousands 

from  every  blossom  of  the  blue  chicory,  while  the  square 
chest  near  by  is  the  form  of  package  preferred  by  the 
basella  flower.  The  clover,  the  daisy,  the  thistle,  the 
golden-rod,  dandelion,  hollyhock,  phlox,  trailing  arbu- 
tus, nasturtium,  have  still  other  forms;  and,  indeed, 
each  separate  flower  is  true  to  some  precious  whim  in 
the  shape  of  its  pollen,  and  among  them  will  be  found 
an  endless  variety  of  forms  with  all  manner  of  exterior 
decoration — bands,  checks,  spots,  reticulations,  grooves, 
punctures,  and  other  sculptured  devices. 


I  1 6  SHARP    EYES 

These  atoms  are  all  interesting  and  beautiful  objects 
under  the  microscope,  and  to  the  botanist  who  ex- 
amines the  bread-basket  of  the  bee  they  may  form  a 
complete  telltale  record  of  the  insect's  round  among  the 
flowers. 

But  this  golden  grist  of  the  bees  is  not  always  an  un- 
mixed blessing.  Like  its  prototype  in  human  affairs  it 
occasionally  reduces  its  owners  to  the  most  complete 
slavery.  The  milk-weed  blossom  will  afford  a  ready  il- 
lustration of  this,  and  will  well  repay  a  careful  exami- 
nation. The  pollen  of  this  flower  is  concealed  from 
view,  and  is  a  veritable  trap.  It  does  not  wait  to  be 
gathered,  but  clasps  the  legs  of  unwary  insects,  and  often 
accumulates  in  such  quantity  as  to  prove  a  serious  han- 
dicap to  the  flight  of  its  victim.  I  have  found  bees  thus 
helpless,  and  a  careful  search  upon  almost  any  cluster 
of  milk-weed  blossoms  will  disclose  some  diminutive  or 
weak  insect  held  prisoner  by  the  pollen  which  it  had 
not  strength  to  remove,  and  thus  made  a  helpless  prey 
to  the  first  prowling  ant  that  chances  its  way. 


THE  SWEEP-NET   HARVEST 


July  2ist 

Y  butterfly- net  and  pocket  magnify- 
ing-glass  are  rare  companions  for 
a  walk  in  the  country.  I  have  often 
had  occasion  to  recommend  these 
simple  means  of  quiet  entertainment  on  a  sultry  Au- 
gust day  beneath  the  trees,  and  I  would  not  let  my 
summer  calendar  pass  without  again  calling  attention 
to  the  sprightly  instructive  harvest  which  our  sweep- 
net  may  bring  us. 

What  a  revealer  of  the  teeming  life  that  peoples  the 
grasses!  One  or  two  trips  across  this  open  sunny  spot, 
with  such  a  light  sweep-net  skimming  the  grass-tips 
and  herbage,  will  bring  in  under  your  shady  tree  or 


,   -i 

-*"fc 


upon  your  study  table  a  whole 
museum  of  living  curiosities  suf- 
ficient to  beguile  the  entire  after- 
noon. 

Open  the  netted  folds  care- 
fully. Here  are  queer  green 
triangular  tree-hoppers, 
looking  like  animated  dock- 
seeds ;  gauzy  lace-winged 
flies  with  eyes  like  sap- 
phires and  rainbow  gleams  in 
their  transparent  pale-green  wings 
— a  very  fairy  of  an  insect,  a  delight  to  the 
eye  if  not  to  the  nostril.  Here  a  slender 
spanworm  measures  off  the  meshes,  and  now 
emerges  a  brilliant  orange -colored  beetle, 
with  a  black  cross  on  its  back ;  and  what  a 
tribe  of  grasshoppers  of  every  age 
and  color,  from  the  brown  "high- 
elbowed  grig,"  so  generous  with 
its  molasses,  to  the  pale-green 


THE   SWEEP-NET   HARVEST  I  1 9 

tree-cricket,  whose  shrill  song  you  so  abruptly  brought 
to  an  end  with  your  stroke  of  the  net !  Here,  farther 
down,  we  observe  a  slight  commotion  among  the  an- 
imated chaff  and  grass  seed,  and  a  brilliant  gem  of  a 
beetle  creeps  forth,  green  as  an  emerald  and  lit  with 
ruby  reflections,  almost  the  brightest  jewel  among  our 
native  insects,  and  whose  presence  here  in  the  net  is 
conclusive  proof  that  yonder  plant  of  dog-bane  must 
have  come  within  the  sweep  of  your  net. 

The  lively  procession  continues  to  emerge  as  you 
open  the  netted  folds.  Here  are  spiders  of  every  shape 
and  size  and  hue — yellow  and  brown  and  green,  round 
and  flat  and  three-cornered  —  glittering  tinselled  flies, 
perhaps  a  leaf -cutting  bee,  ants  and  aphides,  long- 
legged  crane-flies,  aphis -lions,  and  jumping  "snap- 
bugs." 

Even  the  sedimentary  accumulation  at  the  bottom  of 
the  net  is  now  seen  to  be  animated  with  insect  life  ;  the 
dust  of  pollen  and  withered  anthers  of  the  grasses  are 
alive  with  agile  atoms — tiny  creeping  soldier- bugs,  with 
beaks  upraised  for  war,  feather-headed  gnats,  lady -birds 
in  variety,  tiny  orange  -  colored  grubs  —  parasites  from 
the  bodies  of  the  very  grasshoppers  in  your  net.  Quick  ! 
Turn  your  glass  upon  this  frail  plumy -winged  moth 
which  now  creeps  from  the  folds.  And  now  this  spry 
black  midge ;  see  with  what  marvellous  rapidity  it  curls 
upward  the  tip  of  its  agile  tail,  and  tucks  its  buzzing 
wings  beneath  those  tiny  covers  on  its  back  after  each 
short  flight  among  the  meshes  —  an  atom  of  a  rove- 
beetle,  with  the  same  dexterous  trick  of  the  devil's 
coach  -  horse,  which  I  described  and  pictured  a  few 
weeks  ago. 

Nor  have  I  named  all  the  surprises  in  store  for  you 


I2O 


SHARP    EYES 


even  from  this  one  "  haul  "  of  your  net,  while  each  suc- 
cessive sweep  is  sure  to  bring  in  its  sprightly  novelty. 
Don't  let  the  summer  pass  without  making  the  ac- 
quaintance of  the  broods  that  dwell  among  the  grass. 


WHAT  THE    MIDNIGHT 
CAN   SHOW   US 


July  sSth 


' 


S    not    the    midnight    like    Central 
Africa  to  most  of  us?"  asks  Tho- 
reau,  and    not  without   reason, 
for  even  the  best-informed  stu- 
dent   of    daylight    natural 
history  may  visit  his  accus- 
tomed  haunts  in  the  dark- 
ness as  a  pilgrim  in  a 
^        strange  land. 

Our  summer  calen- 
dar would  indeed  be  incom- 
plete without  at  least  one 
stroll  in  the  dewy  star- 
light, for  it  has  a  host  of 
surprises  in  store  for  us. 

I  have  already  written 
two  essays  giving  my  ex- 
periences and  my  surprises 
and  discoveries  in  the  mid- 
night woods  and  meadows, 


122  SHARP    EYES 

and  in  the  present  calendar  series  of  papers  I  will  pre- 
sent a  summary  of  a  few  items  of  especial  interest  in 
the  form  of  a  list  for  ready  reference  in  a  lantern  stroll, 
any  item  of  which  is  well  worth  a  walk  in  the  dews. 

In  the  pretty  pranks  of  the  dew  alone  we  may  find 
a  varied  entertainment,  for  upon  careful  examination 
no  two  plants  will  be  found  to  possess  the  same  whims. 

The  Plantain  is  drenched  and  dripping,  its  parallel- 
ribbed  leaf  and  grooved  stem  feeding  the  roots  all  night 
long  in  a  tiny  runnel  of  dew. 

The  Burdock  and  the  Cabbage. —  See  how  the  great 
glittering  drop,  "  scarce  touching  where  it  lies,"  chases 
among  the  deep  courses  of  the  netted  veins,  gathering 
in  size  as  it  dances,  until  it  is  precipitated  either  along 
the  stem  or  from  the  edge  of  the  leaf. 

Nasturtium  ( Tropceoluni). — You  will  generally  find  the 
leaves  all  turned  edge  upward,  and  they  flash  with  a  fine 
frost-like  sheen. 

Horse-tail  (Equisetuni). — The  reader  will  remember 
the  "scouring- rush"  of  the  early  settlers,  described  a 
few  weeks  ago,  a  plant  with  jointed  hollow  stems  and 
circular  fringes  of  articulated  leaves,  so  common  in  the 
swamps.  There  are  various  species  of  the  "  horse-tails," 
some  of  which,  like  the  true  "  scouring-rush,"  are  al- 
most destitute  of  leafy  growth,  while  others  are  densely 
plumed  with  curved  and  drooping  whorls  of  slender 
spray.  They  are  pretty  enough  by  day,  but  in  the  night 
they  are  transformed  to  very  marvels— fairy  fountains 
of  glittering  brilliants,  each  joint  in  the  thousands  of 
drooping  leaves  being  set  with  a  diamond.  Taken  all 
in  all,  with  its  antique  lineage  for  the  geologist,  its  cu- 
rious squirming  spores  for  the  microscopist,  its  gritty 
stems  for  the  housewife,  its  flinty  tube  for  the  chemist, 


and  its  dewy  revela- 
tion for  the  midnight 
poet,who  shall  hence- 
forth tread  our  Equi- 
setum  underfoot  in 
heedlessness  ? 

The  Jewel-weed. — 
This  is  the  dewy 
night's  rarest  treas- 
ure. It  is  indeed  a 
jewel.  Upon  the  ap- 
proach of  twilight 
each  leaf  droops  as 
if  wilted,  and  from 
the  notches  along 
its  edge  the  crystal 
beads  begin  to  grow, 
until  its  border  is  hung 
full  with  its  gems.  It 
is  Aladdin's  lantern  that 
you  set  among  a  bed  of  these 
succulent  pale-green  plants,  for 
the  spectacle  is  like  dream-land. 
Gossamers. — Both  the  perpendicular 
and  the  prostrate  webs  are  beautifully  dec- 
orated with  the  dew,  and  in  the  night  the 
spiders  seem  to  have  spread  the  entire 
fields  with  their  silk  festoons,  entirely  un- 
seen by  day.  But  Titania  finds  them,  and  strings  them 
all  with  gems. 

In  the  night  you  cannot  be  certain  of  recognizing  your 
best  daylight  friends  among  the  flowers,  for  they  take 
on  all  sorts  of  disguises  in  their  sleep.  Here  are  night 


WHAT    THE    MIDNIGHT    CAN    SHOW    US 


notes  of  the  capers  of  a  few  plants  which 
are  well  worth  a  visit  in  the  dark  hours: 

Red  Clover. — The  two  side  leaflets  are 
folded  together,  and  the  odd  leaflet  bowed 
over  and  slightly  clasping  them.  White 
clover  and  many  other  clovers  follow  the 
same  prayerful  fashion. 

Beggar-ticks  (Desmodituti). 
— The  three  leaflets  droop 
as  if  broken  at  their  stems, 
or  even  close  against  each 
other,  back  to  back,  below. 

Bush    Clover  (Lespedezd*). 


— Leaflets  all  turn  upward, 
clasping  the  tall  main  stem 
from  base  to  summit,  a  com- 
plete transformation  from 
their  daytime  aspect. 

Partridge -pea  (Cassia). — Its  feather- like 
leaves  have  turned  all  their  leaflets  edge 
uppermost,  and,   overlapping    each    other 
closely,  have   flattened  themselves   against  their  main 
stem,  scarcely  distinguishable   from   the   pods. 


126  SHARP    EYES 

Melilot  Clover. — The  three  leaflets  turn  their  edges 
uppermost,  and  two  of  them  close  face  to  face  for  the 
night,  the  other  being  left  out  in  the  cold. 

Lupine. — The  wheel -like  leaf  either  closes  downward 
against  the  stem  at  its  centre,  like  a  closed  umbrella, 
or  rises  in  the  form  of  a  goblet. 

Locust. — Leaflets  all  droop,  even  pressing  each  other 
back  to  back  below  the  main  stem. 

Pig-weed  (Amarantus  hybridus). — All  sorts  of  whims. 
Leaves  turned  edge  uppermost  by  a  twist  in  the  stem, 
or  hug  the  main -stalk  of  the  plant. 

Fringed  Gentian. — Closes  its  fringes. 

Wild  Rose  and  Mullein. —  Flowers  closed. 

Asters.  —  In  various  species  the  purple  rays  curl  up 
into  all  sorts  of  cuddles. 

Cranesbill. — Flowers  closed  spirally. 

Blue-bottles. — The  pretty  blue,  purple,  or  white  spread- 
ing stars  of  the  daytime  are  now  entirely  gone ;  each 
stem  holding  aloft  a  perfect  shuttlecock,  the  petals 
being  raised. 

The  Ground-nut  (Apios  tubcrosd)  and  Wild  Bean  are 
hardly  to  be  recognized  in  their  queer  antics.  The  gar- 
den beans  too  play  similar  pranks.  Those  Lima  bean 
poles  of  the  garden  hold  a  sleepy  crowd. 

The  Catchfly  (Silene  nutans). —  Its  white  blossoms, 
shown  in  my  initial  design,  gleam  in  your  lantern's  rays 
in  the  garden  beds.  They  are  opening  for  the  night 
moths,  but  you  will  hunt  in  vain  for  most  of  them  in 
to-morrow's  sunshine. 

Pea. — The  blossoms  nod  and  partially  close. 

Marigold. — Many  species  close  their  yellow  rays  like 
a  conical  tent  over  the  central  disk. 

Balsams. — Leaves  all  droop  as  if  wilted. 


WHAT   THE    MIDNIGHT   CAN    SHOW    US  I2/ 

Poppies. — Flowers  closed  like  two  clam-shells;  inner 
petals  coiled. 

Pushy. — This  conspicuous  spreading  "  mean  "  weed 
of  the  daytime  is  hard  to  find,  all  of  its  broad  thick 
leaves  being  turned  with  edges  upward  as  it  spreads  on 
the  ground. 

Wood-sorrel. — The  three  leaflets  droop  and  close  back 
to  back  against  the  stem. 

There  are,  indeed,  probably  few  plants  which  do  not 
put  on  a  night-cap  of  some  sort  were  our  eyes  only 
sharp  enough  to  detect  it. 


THE   GRASSHOPPER-MIMIC 


August  4th 

naturalist,  Kirby,  in  describing  the 
bird  known  as  the  "  grasshopper- lark" 
(Alauda  trivialis),  claims  that  it  has  a 
peculiar  note  which  closely  imitates  the 
songs  of  the  grasshoppers  or  locusts  upon  which  it 
feeds ;  the  inference  being  that  this  vocal  strain  may 
be  designed  by  the  bird  either  as  a  decoy  to  the  insect, 
or  as  a  means  of  approaching  it  without  exciting  suspi- 
cion. This  inference  is  commonly  considered  some- 
what gratuitous,  even  though  no  better  reason  be  as- 
signed for  the  mimic  song. 

But  we  have  in  our  own  August  fields  a  grasshopper- 
mimic  which  leaves  Kirby's  bird  far  behind.  So  good 
a  mimic,  indeed,  that  little  is  known  of  its  song  except 
as  it  is  credited  to  the  common  meadow  grasshopper  or 


\   r 


one  of  its  chirping  kindred. 
For  years  during  my  boy- 
hood I  heard  this  fine  insect- 
like  strain,  and  was  complete- 
ly deceived.  It  is  a  peculiarly 
August  song,  and  is  in  such 
perfect  harmony  with  the 
locust  and  grasshopper  din 
which  takes  possession  of  the  meadows  at  this  season — 
the  bird-songs  having  now  almost  entirely  ceased — that 
few  listeners  would  ever  imagine  it  to  proceed  from  the 
throat  of  a  bird. 

We  all  know  the  song  of  the  meadow  grasshopper, 
even  if  we  don't  happen  to  know  the  formidable  book 
name  of  the  singer  (Orclielinium  vitlgarc).  Our  ears 
must  be  dull  indeed  not  to  have  recognized  the  "Zip. 
zip,  zip,  z-e-e-e-e-e-c-e-e  /"  with  the  last  strain  consider- 
ably prolonged  into  a  continual  roundel  sustained  by 
thousands  of  tireless  minstrels  throughout  the  meadow. 
We  may  hear  it  anywhere  in  the  fields  almost  any  sun- 
ny summer  day,  but  it  is  especially  prevalent  in  the 
vegetation  of  the  swamps.  If  we  steal  slyly  upon  its 
source,  we  may  discern  the  green  gauzy- winged  min- 
strel head  downward  on  the  sedge,  and  with  his  shrill- 
ing taborets  vibrating  over  his  back. 

Perhaps,   however,   as   we    approach    the    sound    the 


130 


SHARP    EYES 


song  may  suddenly  cease,  while  a  tiny  brown  bird  flut- 
ters out  close  by,  and  skimming  over  the  grass  tips, 
disappears  yonder  among  the  herbage,  whither  the  grass- 
hopper seems  to  have  suddenly  flown  unseen,  for  the 
buzzing  song  is  now  heard  again  from  the  immediate 
neighborhood  of  the  bird.  A  few  lessons  like  this  will 
soon  fix  the  mimic's  song  in  our  minds,  and  enable  us 
to  detect  it  even  amid  the  meadow  din,  for  although 
a  most  excellent  imitation,  it  has  still  a  peculiar  bird 
quality  which  soon  distinguishes  it  from  the 
wing  music  of  the  "  high-elbowed  grigs  "  in 
the  grass,  especially  if  we  learn  to  identify 
their  individual 
songs. 

This  little  bird 
ventriloquist  has 
doubtless  hood- 
winked many  a  ru- 
ral naturalist  who 
thought  he  knew 
all  the  August  bird- 
songs,  so  few  and  far 
between. 

We  should  not  let 
another  August  pass 
without  settling  our 
score  with  the  little 
fellow  which  the  or- 
nithologists   have 
named  the  "yellow-winged 
sparrow."     He  is  about  the 
size  of   the  "chippy  bird,"  and 
yellow  wing  "  is  rather  misleading 


THE   GRASSHOPPER-MIMIC  13! 

as  a  distinguishing  feature,  the  yellow  being  confined 
to  a  small  spot  upon  the  shoulder.  But,  taken  with 
its  song  and  its  brown  and  white  striped  head,  our 
bird  maybe  readily  identified.  Hunt  him  up;  he  will 
give  you  all  the  "  hide-and-seek  "  that  you  will  want  on 
a  warm  August  day. 


THE  SPICE-BUSH   BUGABOO 


Augitst  nth 

HAT  a  droll  secret  has  that  curled 
..  leaf  on  the  spice -bush  held  from 
-  most  of  us  all  these  years!  A  com- 
ical, startling  secret  indeed.  We 
have  passed  thousands  of  these  care- 
fully folded  leaves  on  the  spice  and 
sassafras  bushes  summer  after  summer,  and  few  of  us 
have  dreamed  of  the  surprise  it  held  for  us,  had  we 
thought  to  part  the  folds  and  peep  within.  I  am  half 
inclined  to  picture  only  my  hanging  folded  leaf,  with- 
out giving  a  hint  of  the  queer  welcome  we  may  get  from 
the  interior. 

But  even  to  those  of  us  who  know  just  what  to  ex- 
pect, is  it  not  always  the  same  droll  surprise?  How 
impossible  is  it  for  us  to  pass  the  spice -bush  without 
exchanging  a  greeting  or  two  with  its  sly  tenants ! 

I  remember  an  incident  in  early  boyhood  which  well 
illustrates  the  peculiar  effect  which  a  first  discovery  of 
the  spice  -  bush  bugaboo  usually  excites,  and  which 
proves  also  how  complete  is  its  concealment.  I  had 
gathered  a  number  of  the  folded  leaves  from  a  spice- 
bush  growing  near  the  front  fence  of  a  farm-house. 


THE   SPICE-BUSH    BUGABOO 


133 


The  farmer,  a  venerable  "  old  inhabitant,"  came  from 
his  door- way  to  see  what  I  was  after,  well  knowing 
from  experience  that  I  was  looking  for  "bugs"  of  some 
sort.  When  he  had  approached  close  to  my  elbow  I 
suddenly  opened  one  of  the  leaves.  Had  it 
contained  a  viper  he  could  hardly  have  ap- 
peared more  excited.  "Be  conscience'  sakes!" 
he  exclaimed,  starting  backward 
with  affright.  "  I  never  see  sech 
a  beast.  Ef  I'd  'a'  known  I  hed 
sech  wild-lookin',  pizen  critters 
around  my  door-yard,  I'd  'a' 
been  scar'd  to  go  out  o' 
nights.  Wut  be  they?"  he 
continued,  pausing  a  safe 
distance  up  the  path ; 
"  a  kind  o'  snake  er 
grub,  I  s'pose." 

"  It  is  only'a  cater-  ^ 

pillar." 

"Waal,  naow, wut  '11 
he  make?    I  s'pose  you 
know.      I    sh'd    s'pect 
suthin'  pertickler  out  o' 
critters  thet  start  aout  like 
thet.     Like  nun" you'll  git 
an  aowl  er  suthin'  aout  on't. 
Ugh !" 

"  Oh,    there's    nothing    to 
get  scared  about,"  I   replied, 
smoothing    one   of   the    cater- 
pillars. 

"Ugh!   I  wouldn't  tech  the 


! 


134  SHARP    EYES 

critter  fer  a  nine-dollar  bill !"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  start- 
ed with  a  shudder  that  fairly  electrified  his  aged  being, 
and  almost  ran  back  to  his  cottage  door. 

To  the  feminine  entomologist  the  first  introduction 
to  the  spice -bush  caterpillar  is  usually  quite  as  demor- 
alizing. That  blank,  unwinking  stare  of  the  two  big 
black  eyes  is  quite  threatening,  until  we  discover  that  it 
is  all  a  bugaboo — that  they  are  mere  freaks  of  ornament 
on  the  body  of  the  caterpillar,  and  not  actual  eyes. 
This  caterpillar  when  full  grown  is  nearly  two  inches 
in  length.  Its  body  is  of  a  bright  green 
with  small  blue  spots,  and  during  the  last 
week  of  its  growth  it  changes  to  a  rich 
yellow  color.  The  eye  spots  are  black  sur- 
rounded with  buff;  and  upon  a  little  prov- 
ocation the  head  becomes  further  orna- 
mented with  a  pair  of  orange-colored  horns, 
with  the  same  malodorous  peculiarities 
which  we  noted  a  few  weeks  ago  in  the 
"parsley  caterpillar,"  to  which  this  spice- 
bush  specimen  is  closely  allied. 

The  "yellow"  stage  of  the  caterpillar  indicates  that 
its  period  of  transformation  is  close  at  hand.  Selecting 
a  suitable  situation,  either  horizontal  or  perpendicular, 
it  spins  a  tiny  tuft  of  silk,  into  which  it  entangles  its 
hindmost  pair  of  feet,  after  which  it  forms  a  V-shaped 
loop  about  the  front  portion  of  its  body,  and  hangs  thus 
suspended,  soon  changing  to  a  chrysalis  of  a  pale  wood- 
color.  These  chrysalides  commonly  survive  the  winter, 
and  in  the  following  June  the  beautiful  "blue  swallow- 
tail "  (Papilio  Troihis)  will  emerge,  and  may  be  seen  sug- 
gestively fluttering  and  poising  about  the  spice  and  sas- 
safras bushes. 


THE   EVENING   PRIMROSE 
BY   DAYLIGHT 

Augiist  nth 

AN  we   really  claim    to    know 
our  evening  primrose?    Night 
after  night,  for  weeks,  its  pale 
blooms  have  opened,  and  shed 
abroad    their   sweet    perfume 
in    the   darkness   in    every  glen 
and  by  every  road-side;   and  yet 
how  few  of  us  have  ever  stopped  to 
witness  that  beautiful   impatience  of 
the  swelling  bud,  the  eager  bursting  of 
its  bounds,  and  the  magic  unfolding  of  the 
crinkly  yellow  petals? 

But  it  is  not  to  the  primrose  of  the  twilight,  nor  the 
opening  bud  nor  fre-sh-  perfumed  flower,  that  I  would 
now  invite  attention.  The  sunset  primrose  we  all  know ; 
it  speaks  for  itself;  but  how  few  of  us  have  the  slightest 
interest  in  those  faded  blooms  of  noon-day  hanging  like 
a  chime  of  bells  on  the  drooping  stems !  For  twenty- 
four  hours  they  may  be  seen  hanging  there,  and  perhaps 
for  half  that  time  who  has  guessed  their  pretty  mystery? 


.„ 


./ 


Go  out  now  in  the  hot,  sunny 
noon-time,  and  stroll  among 
your  withered  primroses,  and 
learn  your  lesson  in  humility. 

Is  this  a  mere  withered,  use- 
less  blossom  that  droops  upon 
its  stem  ?  Is  it  not  rather  the 
prettiest  luminous  fairy  tent  that  ever 
sheltered  a  day-dream?  Last  night, 
when  its  four  green  sepals  burst  from 
their  cone,  and  sprang  backward  to 
release  their  bright,  glossy  petals,  a 
small  moth  quickly  caught  the  signal,  and  settled  in 
quivering  contentment,  sipping  at  its  throat.  Its  wings 
were  of  the  purest  rose- pink,  bordered  with  yellow. 


THE    EVENING    PRIMROSE    BY    DAYLIGHT  137 

All  through  the  night  it  fluttered  among  the  fresh 
opening  flowers,  one  of  a  countless  host  of  feathery  noc- 
turnal moths  and  "  millers."  But  as  the  sunrise  has  sto- 
len upon  these  primroses,  the  fickle  broods  have  all  for- 
gotten the  flowers,  and  dispersed  afar.  "All,"  did  I  say? 
Oh  no;  not  all.  Let  us  turn  to  our  withered  blossoms, 
and,  one  by  one,  look  within  their  bells.  Here  is  one 
that  falls  even  at  our  approach,  plainly  the  blossom  of 
night  before  last.  We  will  turn  our  attention  only  to 
last  night's  flowers.  Here  is  a  bell  that  appears  to  have 
an  extra  petal  folded  within  its  throat ;  and  upon  open- 
ing the  folds,  we  disclose  our  faithful  nursling  with  pink 
and  yellow  wings ;  the  earliest  twilight  sipper,  that  even 
on  the  approach  of  dawn  is  loth  to  leave  the  flower,  and 
creeps  into  the  wilting  bloom,  where  it  remains  concealed 
through  the  following  day,  and  doubtless  occasionally 
falls  with  it  to  the  ground. 

In  the  color  of  its  markings  we  find  an  outward  ex- 
pression of  its  beautiful  sympathy,  the  yellow  margins 
of  the  wings  which  protrude  from  the  flower  being 
quite  primrose- like,  and  the  pink  being  reflected  in  the 
rosy  hue  which  the  wilting  primrose  petals  so  often 
assume,  especially  at  the  throat. 

These  pretty  moths  are  by  no  means  rare.  A  careful 
search  is  quite  certain  to  disclose  a  number  of  them. 
I  once  found  three  upon  the  same  plant.  Look,  then, 
to  your  daylight  primrose. 


BEETLE  MUSICIANS 


August  i8tk 

—^  .  'HERE  is  quite  a  variety  of  music 
to  be  heard  in  the  great  sym- 
phony of  insect  sounds  which 
fills    the    summer    noon. 
We    all    know   the    cres- 
cendo  of    the    cicada,  or 
harvest-fly,  whizzing  its  tim- 
brel   in    the    trees,  and    the 
buzzing  "  zip,  zip, 
*         zip,    zee-e-e-e "   of 
the  meadow  grass- 
hopper   (OrcJieli- 
mum   vulgar e)   everywhere    in 
the  sunny  fields,  the  "  zip,  zip, 
zip,  zip,  zip  "  of  its  companion, 
the  comical  cone -head  grass- 
hopper (ConocepJialus  ensiger), 
to   say  nothing   of   the   great 
orchestra     of    "  high  -  elbowed 
grigs"    gently    fiddling    with 
their  long  hind  legs  among  the 

grass  blades,  their  wing  covers  serving  as  strings  and 
their  thighs  as  fiddle  bows.     This  individual  fiddle  of 


BEETLE   MUSICIANS  139 

the  locust  (I  refer  to  the  flying  locust  of  our  fields, 
those  "grasshoppers"  so  generous  with  their  "molas- 
ses;" these  are  the  true  locusts,  the  insect  usually  called 
"locust"  being  the  cicada] — this  individual  fiddle  of  the 
locust,  then,  is  an  inconspicuous  instrument  in  itself, 
being  barely  distinguishable  by  the  ear  without  effort, 
but  in  its  myriadfold  reenforcement  it  becomes  an  im- 
portant element  in  the  great  meadow  symphony. 

But  while  the  grasshopper  and  locust  tribes  are  re- 
sponsible for  most  of  our  meadow  music,  there  are  yet 
a  few  minor  isolated  musicians  whose  modest  strains 
we  seldom  hear,  though  individually  their  solos  may  be 
superior  to  those  of  their  recognized  rivals. 

In  a  previous  paper  I  alluded  to  the  mysterious  music 
of  the  Antiopa  butterfly,  and  the  click- wheel  rattle  of 
the  "Coral-wing;"  and  I  now  desire  to  introduce  to 
the  music -loving  public  a  trio  of  instrumentalists  whose 
claims  are  not  sufficiently  recognized.  But  on  second 
thought,  perhaps  one  of  my  performers  is  already  famil- 
iar to  most  of  my  readers,  if  not  as  a  musician,  assuredly 
as  a  "  horrible  creature  "  and  a  "  horrid  bug,"  that  brings 
terror  and  confusion  to  the  peaceful  family  group  as- 
sembled around  the  evening  lamp.  A  low  drone  just 
outside  the  window  announces  the  visitor,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment more  he  is  buzzing  and  bumping  about  the  ceil- 
ing, and  is  soon  master  of  the  house,  his  formidable  jaws 
insuring  him  a  respectful  distance  and  careful  attention. 

But  if  we  forego  formalities,  and  unceremoniously  lift 
our  intruder  by  the  nape  of  his  neck,  we  learn  of  an  ac- 
complishment which  doubtless  explains  his  overweening 
assurance.  For,  lo  !  is  he  not  the  "  first  fiddle  "  of  all 
out- doors?  "Squeak,  squeak,  squeak!"  is  his  now  in- 
cessant refrain.  It  is  well  for  us  if  we  are  content  to 


listen  admiringly  and  not  in- 
vestigate, for  if  our  doughty 
musician  can  once  fasten  his 
teeth  upon  us,  he  will  pun- 
ish us  severely  for  the  indig- 
nity,   even    parting    with    his 
head,  if    need    be,  to    prolong 
his  chastisement. 

This   musical   character  will 
be  recognized  by  a  glance  at 

his  portrait  on  the  oak-leaves.  In  the  classic  programme 
he  is  announced  as  Orthosoma  unicolor.  He  is  a  mahog- 
any-colored creature  throughout,  about  an  inch  and  a 
half  long,  and  carries  two  violins  and  four  fiddle  bows, 
thus  possessing  within  himself  the  resources  for  solo, 
duo,  trio,  or  quartette,  as  his  whim  may  dictate.  Shall 
we  then  quarrel  with  his  self-complacency? 

His  music   is  produced  by  the  contact   of  the  four 


BEETLE   MUSICIANS 


I 


hind  legs,  chiefly  the  last  pair, 
with  the  edges  of  the  wing  cov- 
ers. He  is  the  "  first  fiddle  " 
of  all  out -doors.  The  locust 
orchestra  follow  his  lead  and 
method,  but  none  of  them  have 
inherited  such  a  mahogany  Stra- 
divarius  as  he,  and  are  thus  left 
far  behind. 

If  the  Antiopa  butterfly  has 
deceived  some  observers  into 
the  belief  that  it  has  a  "  voice," 
what  shall  be  said  of  this  con- 
cert of  quaint  singers  which  I 
have  pictured  on  the  bough  op- 
posite, for  singers  they  would 
certainly  seem  to  be.  There  is 
no  motion  of  the  legs  or  wings 
observable  in  this  group  as  they 
sit  there  quietly  in  the  sun  on 
the  poplar  branch.  No  fiddling 
here.  And  yet  the  faint  trio  of 
squeak  music  is  plainly  percep- 
tible, as  they  nod  continuously 
to  each  other  in  mutual  ap- 
proval. I  have  frequently  come 
upon  such  a  group,  or  an  occa- 
sional isolated  individual  sun- 
ning itself  upon  the  trunk  of  a 
poplar  in  the  woods.  The  in- 
sect is  about  an  inch  and  a 
quarter  long,  and  in  its  decora- 
tion is  a  decided  contrast  to  the 


142  SHARP    EYES 

fiddlers,  being  clothed  in  a  nap  of  mottled  gray  and 
ochre  yellow.  Unlike  most  beetles,  the  head  is  set 
upon  the  body  with  the  face  looking  directly  in  front, 
and  the  expression  of  that  face,  with  its  almond-shaped 
black  eyes,  as  it  peers  around  the  edge  of  a  twig  with 
nodding  accompaniment,  lends  a  comic  element  to  the 
musical  performance.  This  is  the  Saperda  calcarata. 
His  musical  instrument  is  unique  in  the  insect  orches- 
tra. It  is  not  a  fiddle,  nor  a  click -wheel,  nor  a  drum, 
nor  a  timbrel.  It  is  a  musical  collar,  from  which  he 
literally  grinds  out  the  music  with  the  back  of  his  head, 
into  which  it  sets  as  in  a  socket.  At  least  such  seems 
to  be  his  method.  If  not,  which  of  my  boy  readers  will 
tell  us  more  about  this  queer  squeak  of  the  Saperda? 
Now  is  the  time  to  find  him.  Hunt  among  the  poplar 
branches. 

If  we  care  to  search  among  the  golden  -  rod  blossoms 
we  may  find  many  specimens  of  another  similar  musi- 
cian, the  Painted.  Clytus,  a  beautiful  creature  nearly  an 
inch  long,  banded  with  yellow  and  sable,  sipping  among 
the  blossoms,  and  squeaking  contentedly  at  the  feast. 


AN    ECCENTRIC   PRECENTOR 


August  i8th 

ORCHESTRA  is  complete,  of 
course,  without  its  leader.  Even 
the  "first  fiddle"  must  observe  the 
baton.  And  as  the  insect  world 
affords  us  a  veritable  fiddler  and  a 
harpist,  as  well  as  other  instrumen- 
talists, so  too  may  we  find  our  precentor  close  at  hand, 
if  our  eyes  are  only  sharp  enough.  This  group  of  sing- 
ing beetles  upon  the  poplar  branch,  I  wonder  if  they 
are  watching  him  as  they  nod  their  squeaky  trio?  For 
he  is  close  at  hand.  Even  among  these  very  leaves  we 
are  sure  to  find  him  with  a  little  search.  But  if  they 
are  indeed  observing  him,  he  must  be  a  decidedly  con- 
fusing leader,  for  no  two  of  the  bobbing  heads  are  keep- 
ing the  same  time.  Ah,  here  he  is!  perched  upon  the 
mid-stem  of  an  aspen  leaf  close  by.  You  have  seen  him, 
perhaps,  a  hundred  times,  and  all  his  pompous  pride 
has  been  wasted  on  you,  being  doubtless  mistaken  for 
a  part  of  a  withered  or  curled  leaf.  Our  precentor  is 
about  an  inch  and  a  quarter  long.  The  forepart  of  his 


body  is  arched  upward,  like 
;.»-*  a  sphinx.  He  wears  a  green 
vest  and  a  flat  triangular 
;;^-'>  hat,  and  a  white-bordered  brown 
mantle  decorates  his  back.  And 
his  baton?  No  wonder  our  bee- 
tle trio  were  confused,  for  our  precen- 
tor wields  two  batons.  He  is  a  law  unto 
himself,  has  no  score  to  fojlow,  and,  what  is  more,  if 
things  don't  go  exactly  to  suit  him,  he  whips  out  from 
the  tips  of  his  batons  two  long  red  whip  -  lashes,  and 
makes  things  lively  for  a  few  moments. 

It  is  difficult  to  understand  the  many  impetuous  an- 
tics of  our  eccentric  precentor — squirming  from  side  to 
side,  circling  his  double  baton  about  his  head  as  with  a 
hurrah,  snapping  his  whip  on  right  and  left  without 
rhyme  or  reason.  Yes,  as  a  precentor  it  is  difficult  to 
understand  his  doings.  But  when  we  return  to  reason, 


AN    ECCENTRIC    PRECENTOR  145 

and  remember  that  he  is  only  an  important  puss-moth 
caterpillar,  it  is  not  half  so  mysterious.  If  we  watch 
and  wait  for  a  moment  or  two  we  shall  doubtless  wit- 
ness a  return  of  that  buzzing  fly — a  parasite,  perhaps — 
that  has  just  been  tickling  him. 

The  puss- moth  caterpillar  is  quite  common  upon 
young  aspens,  and  will  be  readily  recognized  from  my 
portrait.  It  is  an  amusing  insect,  and,  so  far  as  I  have 
seen,  those  peculiar  rosy  whip -lashes  concealed  within 
the  forked  tail,  to  be  used  when  occasion  demands,  are 
not  described  in  the  popular  works  on  natural  history. 


Jg 


THE   EXPLOSIVE 

CLUB-MOSSES 

*i 

August  25 /h  a 

F  we  ask  our  apothecary  for  five  cents'     I 
worth  of  lycopodium,  he  will  proceed     V 
to  pour  out  from  a  glass  jar  into  the 
scales  a  half -ounce  or  more  of  a  light   ochre  yellow 
powder.      The  same  powder  is  also  to  be  obtained  in 


THE    EXPLOSIVE    CLUB-MOSSES  147 

its  tiny  vial  among  the  regular  list  of  homoeopathic 
remedies.  Outside  of  the  drug-store,  however,  few  of  us 
have  ever  seen  it ;  rather,  I  should  say,  few  of  us  have 
ever  seen  it  to  recognize  it,  even  though  we  may  have 
breathed  it  into  our  lungs  in  the  woods,  or  brushed  it 
from  our  clothing  in  clouds,  under  the  impression  that 
the  dusty  soil  was  alone  responsible  for  our  soiled  gar- 
ments. 

"  What  do  you  use  it  for?"  I  recently  asked  an  apoth- 
ecary. 

"  We  keep  it  to  put  in  pill -boxes  with  the  pills,"  was 
his  reply;  "that  is  all  we  use  it  for.  Powdered  lico- 
rice is  also  used  for  the  same  purpose,  but  the  lycopo- 
dium  is  preferable." 

But  there  is  much  of  interest  to  be  found  in  this  yel- 
low powder  which  is  not  generally  known.  Nor  need 
we  visit  the  druggist's  to  get  our  sample  for  experiment. 
What,  then,  is  this  drug,  lycopodium  ?  Our  botany  will 
enlighten  us :  " Lycopodium,  a  cryptogamous  plant,  com- 
monly known  as  'club -moss,'  a  low  evergreen  some- 
what resembling  a  moss,  its  stems  clothed  with  short 
pointed  scaly  leaves,  the  fruiting  stems  discharging  their 
subtle  spores  in  the  form  of  a  copious  sulphur -colored 
inflammable  powder." 

So,  in  substance,  says  Dr.  Gray,  and  though  the  com- 
bustible nature  of  this  yellow  cloud  is  published  to  the 
world  in  nearly  all  our  botanies,  it  is  a  singular  fact  that 
comparatively  few  of  those  who  know  the  plant  in  all  its 
many  varieties,  who  perhaps  have  named  it  with  its 
Latin  tag,  and  who  have  pressed  it  and  mounted  it  in 
their  herbarium,  have  known  its  singular  explosive  prop- 
erties and  the  fiery  tricks  it  is  capable  of  performing. 
Country  people  everywhere,  even  though  innocent  of 


botany,  will  certainly 
recall  the  well-known 
"ground-pine,"  which 
carpets  the  winter 
woods  in  its  fan- 
shaped  green  foliage, 
and  which  is  such  a 
favorite  for  Christmas  wreaths  and  decoration  in  general. 
This  is  the  most  familiar  form  of  the  lycopodium  (L. 
dendroideuni),  but  there  are  others  equally  common  in 
our  woods,  some  assuming  the  form  of  miniature  branch- 
ing pine-trees,  or  trees  resembling  closely  tufted  mosses, 
but  all,  at  one  season  or  another,  lifting  their  catkin-like 
fruiting  spore  fronds,  and  shedding  in  the  breeze  their 
smoky  yellow  clouds.  Certain  of  these  species  are  now 
fruiting  in  the  woods,  and  we  have  only  to  find  them  to 
obtain  our  generous  supply  of  this  same  yellow  powder 
of  the  pharmacy. 

Where  the  plant  grows  abundantly  these  spore  stems 
rise  in  profusion  among  the  leaves,  and  as  we  walk 
through  them  our  shoes  and  nether  garments  are  soon 
covered  with  the  yellow  dust.  With  a  little  care  each 


THE    EXPLOSIVE   CLUB-MOSSES  149 

separate  catkin,  by  a  gentle  bend  and  shake,  may  be 
made  to  pour  its  dry  grist  into  a  box  held  beneath  it, 
and  several  ounces  of  the  powder  may  be  thus  gathered 
in  a  few  moments.  A  little  of  this  powder  poured  upon 
the  flame  of  a  match  or  candle  will  demonstrate  its  in- 
flammable qualities,  exploding  with  a  brilliant  lightning- 
like  flash.  A  few  of  the  stems  picked  when  immature 
and  allowed  to  dry  in  the  house  will  produce  the  same 
flash  when  shaken  above  the  flame. 

In  earlier  times,  and  even  to-day,  for  aught  I  know, 
this  same  powder  was  in  great  demand  behind  the  scenes 
at  the  theatre,  where,  in  association  with  the  terrific  din 
of  the  rolling  balls  and  the  crash  of  the  enormous  sheet 
of  tin,  it  did  brilliant  duty  in  the  mimic  thunder-storm. 

In  their  natural  destiny  these  floating  spores  are  car- 
ried to  the  ends  of  the  earth  by  the  winds,  to  say  nothing 
of  an  occasional  artificial  journey  towards  the  stars  as 
they  are  borne  aloft  in  the  rocket,  and  light  the  zenith 
in  their  glare.  I  have  discovered  that  the  pollen  of  the 
pine  blossoms  has  similar  inflammable  properties  to  the 
lycopodium. 


SEED   TRAMPS 


V  September  ist 

N  his  charming  volume  Wake-Robin  Mr. 
Burroughs  has  felicitiously  alluded  to 
the  weeds  as  the  "  tramps  of  the  vege- 
table world."  "They  are  going  east,  west,  north, 
south,"  he  says ;  "  they  walk,  they  fly,  they  swim, 
they  steal  a  ride  ;  they  travel  by  rail,  by  flood, 
by  wind ;  they  go  under  ground  and  they  go 
above,  across  lots  and  by  the  highway.  But,  like 
other  tramps,  they  find  it  safest  by  the  highway. 
In  the  fields  they  are  intercepted  and  cut  off,  but 
on  the  public  road  every  boy,  every  passing  herd 
of  sheep  or  cows,  gives  them  a  lift." 


SEED    TRAMPS  15! 

It  is  to  this  class  of  restless  vagabonds  that  I  would 
now  direct  attention,  and  what  a  precious  lot  of  tramps 
they  are!  Foreign  immigrants  almost  without  excep- 
tion, by  hook  and  by  crook,  by  fair  means  and  foul, 
they  have  travelled  from  the  ends  of  the  earth,  until 
now  they  are  always  and  forever  with  us,  lording  it 
over  every  copse  and  wood.  Do  we  seek  our  garden 
for  a  quiet  evening  stroll,  they  present  their  unwelcome 
compliments.  Do  we  stoop  to  drink  at  the  way-side 
water-trough,  they  thrust  their  cards  upon  us,  and  not 
content  with  a  mere  recognition,  even  plaster  us  with  a 
whole  pack  of  them. 

But  the  woods  are  their  stronghold.  There  they 
have  us  at  their  mercy  —  lay  in  wait  for  us,  hedge  us 
about,  and  intimidate  us,  until  we  return  from  our  walk 
in  helpless  chagrin,  decorated  with  their  advertising  tags 
from  head  to  foot,  champions  against  our  will  of  their 
whole  shady  fraternity.  What  a  representative  rogues' 
gallery  do  we  often  bring  home  with  us  on  our  nether 
costume  or  even  upon  our  coat -sleeve!  Sly  brigands, 
whose  presence  in  the  woods  we  had  never  suspected 
did  we  not  here  see  their  unimpeachable  cartes  de  visite. 

We  may  know  little  enough  of  botany,  scarcely 
enough,  perhaps,  to  serve  us  in  giving  a  wide  berth  to 
the  poisonous  plants  that  have  often  made  us  suffer;  but 
there  is  at  least  one  interesting  botanical  family  whose 
familiar  forms  we  have  been  forced  to  study  with  pa- 
tience—  the  burrs  and  beggar- ticks,  the  stick-seeds, 
Spanish-needles,  and  "pitchforks."  We  know  them  all, 
and  recognize  the  same  old  persistent  tokens  from  year 
to  year,  yet  how  few  of  us  catch  them  in  the  act  of  as- 
sault ! 

One  or  two,  like  the  group  that  flanks  my  highway 


152 


SHARP    EYES 


on  the  left  with  a  "  qui  va  /&/"  yearning  for  a 
jab  at  the  humble  craft  in  the  background, 
are  familiar  to  us  even  in  their  haunts.  But 
here  is  an  odd  assemblage  upon  the  skirt  of 
our  coat,  the  hangers-on  of  every  wood  and 
copse,  and  many  of  them  I  am  certain  the 
"oldest  inhabitant"  has  never  seen 
except  as  he  picks  them  from  his 


.,.-., 


clothing  day  af- 
ter day  with  vigorous 
comment. 

There  are  those  queer,  flat, 
green,  jointed  affairs,  for  instance, 
that  stick  closer  than  a  brother,  either  in  de- 
tached pieces  or  plastered  in  strings  and  bro- 
ken chains  in  all  sorts  of  devices.     What  was 
their  history  ere  they  fell  from  grace?    There 
is  a  whole  troop  of  them  which  are  popularly  stigma- 
tized as  "  ticks,"  and  commonly  supposed  to  be  mem- 
bers of  the  same  chain-gang.     But  this  is  not  so ;  there 


SEED    TRAMPS  153 

are  at  least  a  half-dozen  different  countenances  to  be 
found  among  them,  and  a  little  study  will  soon  enable 
us  to  assort  the  several  distinct  types.  I  will  not  at- 
tempt to ;  they  are  all  sinners,  and  mostly  black  sheep 
from  promising  and  comely  ancestors. 

In  the  botany  this  group  may  be  found  under  the 
title  Dcsmodium,  a  name  derived  from  a  Greek  word 
meaning  a  bond  or  chain,  the  seeds  being  arranged  in 
links,  as  it  were,  each  a  tiny  pod  covered  with  minute 
hooks  and  containing  a  single  seed.  I  have  shown  here 
four  distinct  forms  of  the  pods,  from  either  of  which  a 
botanist  could  readily  bring  to  mind  the  pretty  pink 
parent  pea- blossomed  flower  of  the  woods.  The  low- 
est of  them,  rounded  above  and  below,  is  the  Desmo- 
dium  Canadense.  The  jointed  pair  above,  D.  panicula- 
tum,  the  single  triangle,  D.  nudiflorum,  and  the  upper 
trio,  D.  accuminatum.  Turning  our  attention  to  the 
"pitchforks,"  Bidens  (two- teethed),  we  have  also  a  va- 
riety of  styles,  from  the  four-tined  Bidens  cernua  at  the 
right  to  the  B.  frondosa  near  it,  and  the  slender  Span- 
ish-needle above,  B.  bipinnata,  the  three -pronged  indi- 
vidual on  the  left  being  the  seed  of  B.  connata.  Each 
of  these  groups  belongs  to  an  individual  family  —  the 
first  to  the  Bean  family,  the  second  to  the  Composite. 

One  of  the  most  persistent  and  tenacious  of  all  these 
wild  "beggars"  is  shown  in  the  upper  part  of  the  group. 
As  we  pick  him  out  of  the  puckers  he  has  gathered 
about  himself  in  our  garments  he  appears  less  than  a 
fifth  of  an  inch  in  diameter,  unless,  indeed,  he  has  mul- 
tiplied himself  into  four  smaller  sections,  an  odd  trick 
which  he  generally  resorts  to.  One  of  these  sad -iron- 
shaped  pieces  is  shown  below.  It  is  armed,  not  with 
hooks  like  the  many  clinging  seeds,  but  with  veritable 


arrow-headed 
spears,    which, 
when  once  anchor- 
ed, reach  deeper  and  deep- 
er with  every  movement, 
and    embed  themselves  closely   into 
whatever  fabric  they  take  a  fancy  to. 

They  are  the  "  beggar -lice  "  of  the  botany, 
and  hang  in  a  pretty  row  upon  the  graceful  par- 
ent blossom  stem,  following  a  spray  of  tiny  pale- 
blue  blossoms. 

Another  burr  with  a  similar  trick  of  multiplication  is 
shown  at  the  left  below,  splitting  in  half  like  two  spring- 
backed  turtles  with  curved  tails.  This  is  the  fruit  of 
the  Sanicle  Marilandica,  a  common  plant  in  open  woods. 
A  very  frequent  offender  is  the  twin  seed  of  the  cleav- 
ers, or  goose-grass,  Galium,  round  and  beset  with  slen- 
der hooks ;  there  are  a  number  of  species,  and  if  you 
occasionally  chance  upon  a  cluster  of  similar  specimens 
among  them,  only  of  a  distinct  pear  shape  beneath  the 
hooks,  you  may  rest  assured  that  you  have  visited  the 
haunts  of  the  enchanters  night-shade  as  well  as  the 
cleavers.  But  the  prettiest  and  most  shapely  of  all  the 
burrs  upon  our  coat-sleeve  is  the  nodding  urn  of  the 
agrimony,  its  lower  rim  circled  with  a  stiff  array  of 
hooks,  and  whose  slender  spires  of  green  fruit  may  be 


SEED    TRAMPS  155 

seen  all  summer,  tapered  off  at  the  summit  with  their 
bright  golden  blossoms. 

We  all  know  the  tenacious  burdock  and  the  cockles 
and  clot-burrs,  the  most  formidable  of  their  kind  among 
our  native  burrs ;  and  he  who  has  come  into  contact 
with  the  enterprising  barbed  spines  of  the  sly  "  hedge- 
hog" caltrop — as  he  reclined  for  comfort  on  the  sand 
of  the  sea-shore,  has  probably  speedily  arisen  to  express 
his  full  recognition  of  their  prior  right  to  the  premises. 
One  of  these  vile  burrs  is  shown  on  page  274,  the  sin- 
gular fruit  of  the  Cenchrus,  an  anomaly  among  the  tribe 
of  grasses. 


A  QUEER   "SPIDER'S   NEST 


September  8th 

BOUT    two    summers    ago    a    lady 
brought    me    a    natural    history 
specimen  which  was  something 
of  a  puzzle  to  her  and  the  rest 
of  her  household. 

"  I  have  brought  you  a  queer  spi- 
der's nest,"  said  she.  "  I  suppose  you 
have  seen  lots  of  them,  but  I  never  saw  one  like  it  be- 
fore. It  fell  from  the  folds  of  a  silk  dress,  which  I  was 
taking  from  the  closet,  and  broke,  but  I  gathered  up 
the  pieces  and  the  spiders,  which  all  seemed  to  have 
been  killed  by  the  fall,  and  here  are  the  fragments." 

I  opened  the  handkerchief  in  which  the  nest  was 
brought,  and  disclosed  what  appeared  to  be  an  irregular 
lump  of  mud.  One  side  of  it  bore  a  perfect  cast  of  the 
silk  gros-grain  fabric  —  a  perfect  mould,  easily  identified 
as  from  silk.  The  broken  portion  disclosed  a  smooth 
cavity  with  a  few  spiders,  apparently  dead,  within  it, 
and,  with  the  number  of  others  to  be  seen  in  the  debris, 
showing  that  the  cell  had  originally  contained  no  less 
than  sixteen  spiders,  varying  in  size,  but  all  of  the  same 


A  QUEER  "SPIDER'S  NEST" 


157 


species.  The  lump  of  mud  contained  two  other  cells, 
each  of  which  was  similarly  packed  with  the  spiders, 
one  of  them  yielding  seventeen  individuals.  All  of 
them  were  in  the  same  limp  and  lifeless  condition. 

But  a  closer  examination  of  the  mass  revealed  the 
secret  of  our  queer  spider  nest.  After  a  moment's 
search  I  brought  to  light  in  one  of  the  cells  a  tiny  egg, 
and  in  the  second  a  small  white  grub  in  the  act  of 
finishing  a  meal  from  the  mutilated  remains  of  the 
spiders. 

"It  is  perfectly  plain,  don't  you   see,"  said   I,  "that 
this  plump  larva,  and  not  the  spider,  is  the  real  lord 
of  the  manor,  and  that 
all  the  spider  prisoners 
were    to    have    been 
eaten." 

"  Yes,"  said  my 
friend  ;  "  but  how 


158 


SHARP    EYES 


did  the  spiders  get  there?     Have  they  deliberately  pack- 
ed themselves  here  in  this  old  wasp  nest  to  be  eaten  up?n 
"  Ah,  then,  you  knew  it  was  a  wasp  nest,  did  you  ?" 
"Why,  of  course,"  she   replied.     "It  didn't  occur  to 
me  at  first,  but  I  have  often  seen  the  same  sort  of  mud 
.-•fr^A-..^  nests  on  the  beams  of  my  garret ; 

'*lty?  *."  but  never  heard  of  the  old  ones 

V^x/<^      ^fcJiU    being    used    by   spiders.      And 


then  the  spiders  are 
all  dead,  and  are  not 
like  any  spiders  that 
I  have  ever  seen  ;  and 
then  there  is  that  lit- 
tle worm  and  all.  I 
"•>>  don't  understand 


the  thing  a  bit." 

"  Do    you   know 
what  sort  of  a  wasp 
it  is  that  builds  that 
mud  nest  ?"  I  asked. 
"  I  don't  know  his  name;  but  I  know  he 
is  deep-blue,  and  has  a  very  slender  waist. 


I  see    them    buzzing 

around  my  garret  every  day." 

"  And  it  has  never  occurred  to  you  what  that  nest 
was  built  for?" 

"  Why,  certainly,"  she  replied  ;  "  the  young  wasps  are 
raised  in  it.  I  understand  all  that ;  but  it  is  those  spi- 
ders that  puzzle  me,  for  this  nest  is  all  closed  up  tight 
with  mud,  and  there  is  no  sign  of  a  wasp  to  be  seen, 
and  he  could  not  get  into  it  if  he  wanted  to." 

"And  what  do  you  imagine  that  blue  wasp  has  been 
doing  all  these  weeks  while  buzzing  around  your  garret 
rafters?"  I  inquired. 

"  Feeding  its  young  ones  in  the  nest,  I  suppose." 

"And  where  are  the  young  ones?"  I  asked. 

"  They  have  probably  grown  up  and  flown  away  by 
this  time.  But  what  has  that  to  do  with  these  spiders? 


l6o  SHARP    EYES 

I  understand  about  the  wasps,  but  the  spiders  are  what 
I  want  you  to  tell  me  about." 

My  friend  knew  the  wasp- nest  and  the  "deep-blue 
slender- waisted  wasp"  in  her  garret,  but  the  trouble 
was  that  her  acquaintance  with  the  insect  did  not  go 
beyond  the  garret  window. 

Had  she  followed  our  "mud-dauber"  or  mason  wasp 
as  it  flew  abroad  in  its  busy  mission  for  that  clay  nest 
the  mystery  of  the  spiders  would  soon  have  been  re- 
vealed. Out  across  the  road  it  flew,  and  was  soon  buzz- 
ing over  the  rowen-field  near  by,  which  at  this  season  is 
glistening  with  the  beautiful  upright  web  wheels  of  the 
satin -backed  Argiope,  a  pretty  spider,  now  about  half 
grown,  with  its  body  banded  in  stripes  of  gray  and  yel- 
low. This  nest,  the  doom  of  so  many  insects  even  larger 
than  itself,  knows  no  terrors  to  the  mud -dauber.  In  a 
twinkling  the  glistening  spider  is  seized,  even  in  its  lair, 
or,  frightened  thither,  captured  after  a  hunt  among  the 
leaves.  It  is  quickly  stung  into  submission  by  the 
wasp,  and  thus  drugged  into  a  stupor,  as  it  were,  though 
otherwise  unharmed,  is  carried  straight  to  that  garret 
mud  nest. 

Another  and  another  trip  is  made  to  the  rowen-field, 
with  like  results,  until  the  mud  cell  is  at  length  packed 
to  the  brim  with  the  spiders.  This  done,  the  wasp  lays 
an  egg  among  them  and  immediately  seals  the  opening 
with  mud,  and  leaves  the  care  of  the  prisoners  to  a 
deputy  that  is  fully  equal  to  the  responsibility. 

One  by  one  they  fall  a  victim  to  the  growing  grub 
within,  their  number  having  been  nicely  calculated  as  a 
larder  to  carry  him  to  his  full  growth.  If  we  open  one 
of  these  cells  two  months  hence  we  shall  find  a  few 
remnant  spider  legs  as  the  only  hint  of  the  original 


A  QUEER  " SPIDER'S  NEST"  161 

"spider  nest, "while  the  cavity  is  now  filled  with  a  filmy 
brown  cocoon,  containing  perhaps  a  plump  white  larva, 
perhaps  a  pupa,  or  maybe  a  steel-blue  slender-waisted 
wasp  just  making  its  exit,  and  fully  prepared  to  tell  you 
all  about  spiders,  if  you  will  only  listen  to  its  hum  with 
proper  understanding. 

So  then  our  "  dead  spiders  "  are  not  dead  after  all. 
A  very  little  provocation  in  the  way  of  a  rude  touch  or 
jostle  of  any  one  of  them  will  cause  a  perceptible  tre- 
mor of  the  legs  even  after  weeks  of  confinement  within 
the  sealed  mud  chamber.  A  wonderful  provision  of 
nature  is  this  potent  sting  of  the  parent  wasp  to  insure 
a  supply  of  fresh  living  food  for  its  young  until  the 
completion  of  its  growth. 

Many  varieties  of  spiders  are  packed  within  these 
nests  through  the  season.  The  earlier  nests  are  usually 
filled  with  the  half -grown  specimens  of  the  beautiful 
black  and  yellow  Argiope,  which  is  the  species  shown  in 
our  illustration. 

The  common  house-spider  is  a  favorite  prey  in  the 
summer  months,  while  in  the  late  autumn  the  banded 
Argiope  seems  to  be  the  principal  attraction.  The  Sep- 
tember nests  in  this  locality  are  usually  packed  full  with 
this  species. 


THE   TALKING   FLY 


September  i^th 

OT  once  but  a  half-dozen  times  has  this  com- 
ical-looking fly  made  game  of  me  in  my 
walks.  It  needs  only  a  single  glance  at  the 
specimen  .to  see  that  something  out  of  the 
ordinary  run  of  things  might  be  expected 
from  him.  The  first  time  he  experimented 
on  me  I  well  remember.  I  was  sitting  beneath  a  hazel- 
bush  in  the  shadow  of  a  stone-wall,  examining  some  flow- 
ers which  I  had  just  gathered.  For  a  matter  of  five  min- 
utes while  thus  employed  I  was  carelessly  conscious  of 
voices  somewhere  in  the  remote  neighborhood  on  the 
other  side  of  the  wall.  The  tone  suggested  a  masculine 
source,  and  at  one  moment  seemed  to  take  the  form  of 
a  soliloquy,  and  then  of  an  interrupted  dialogue,  now 
suggesting  a  long-drawn  nasal  exclamation  which  pict- 
ured to  my  mind  a  Coriolanus  in  the  far  distance  "driv- 
ing his  oxen  by  sheer  force  of  his  lungs,"  "  Ha-a-aw-\v-w !" 
with  a  falling  inflection,  and  again  a  yell  across  the 


THE   TALKING    FLY 


meadow,    "Sa-ay!      Fra-a-ank! 
Waou  !"  or  perhaps  a  brief  nasal 
interchange    of  seasonable    com- 
ment   about    crops    or    weather. 
All  these  pretty  pastoral  visions 
hovered  in  my  fancy  between  my 
botany  glass  and   my  flowers, 
carelessly,  as  I  have  said,  and 
would    have    vanished    like    a 
dream    had    not  a  little   inci- 
dent  served    to   revive    them, 
and  forever  frame  them 
in  my  memory. 

My  flower  identified, 
I    prepared    to    re- 
sume    my    walk, 


aft* 

'--*    >-  ^ 


164  SHARP    EYES 

when  my  attention  was  claimed  by  a  curious  visitor, 
which  had  suddenly  perched  upon  a  head  of  tear-thumb 
blossoms  close  at  my  elbow,  ogling  me  most  mischiev- 
ously. 

I  had  seen  portraits  of  this  black- sheep  in  the  rogues' 
gallery  of  insects,  but  was  never  brought  into  such  close 
quarters  with  the  original  before.  I  soon  identified 
him,  and  knowing  that  in  my  superior  fighting  weight  I 
would  be  perfectly  safe  in  tackling  him,  I  prepared  to 
catch  him  with  a  sweep  of  my  hand,  when  away  he 
went  with  a  "  Ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a !"  which  seemed  drawn 
out  in  a  long  nasal  perspective  to  the  limit  of  my  hear- 
ing, and  the  inspiration  of  my  pastoral  visions  was  sud- 
denly revealed. 

On  several  occasions  since  I  have  been  momentarily 
deceived  by  the  twanging  buzz  of  the  big  fly.  It  is  im- 
possible to  suggest  in  type  the  peculiar  quality  of  the 
sound,  but  a  glance  at  my  portrait  of  him  will  serve  to 
identify  the  insect,  and  he  may  be  heard  tuning  up  any 
day  now  in  our  meadows,  as  indeed  he  might  have  been 
for  several  weeks  past,  and  may  be  for  several  to  come. 
He  is  closely  related  to  the  murderous  mock  bumblebee 
described  in  a  later  page. 


AN   UNDERGROUND   FRUIT 


September  I5th 

N  a  former  botanical  chapter  I  called  attention 
to  some  common  plants  which  have  kept  a 
few  secrets  from  most  of  us.  And  there  is 
still  another  which  I  forgot  to  mention,  or 
perhaps  concluded  to  postpone  to  its  more 
appropriate  season.  We  may  see  it  now  everywhere 
in  our  walks,  clambering  over  fence  and  shrub,  and 
lending  its  graceful  foliage  and  drooping  pinky-white 
blossoms  to  many  a  homely  weed  which  ought  to  be 
glad  enough  for  the  borrowed  adornment.  Here  is  a 
nook  in  the  woods  where  the  ground  is  screened  be- 
neath its  delicate  threefold  leaves,  while  an  ascending 
spray  has  twined  to  the  summit  of  a  neighboring  golden- 
rod,  perhaps,  with  long  tendril  -like  tips  reaching  out  for 
new  opportunities. 

It  is  the  delicate  "wild  bean;"  and  if  the  threefold 
leaf  and  long  raceme  of  pale  drooping  blossoms  do 
not  at  once  suggest  the  name,  a  little  further  search  will 
disclose  the  telltale  cluster  of  flat  pods,  like  tiny  Limas 
hanging  among  the  leaves. 

But  the  botany,  we  find,  has  still  another  christening 


in  store  for  the  delicate 
vine — "  the  hog  pea-nut " 
— an  inelegant  name  of 
no  possible  significance, 
unless  it  be  that  the  hog, 
from  his  well-known 
rooting  propensities, 
is   most   likely  to 
discover  its  secret. 
The  Greek  sci- 
entific title  is  more 


to  the  point  —  AmpJiicar- 
pcea,  which  signifies  "seed  at 
both  ends."    We  have  already 
seen  the  pods  at  its  upper  end.    What 
shall  we  find  at  the  other?     If  we  care- 
fully uproot  the  soil,  the  "  pea-nut"  is  soon 
disclosed  —  a    small    one-seeded    rounded 


AN    UNDERGROUND    FRUIT 


1 67 


pod,  pallid,  and  beset  with  fine  brown  hairs,  and  which 
not  one  person  in  a  thousand  of  those  who  know  this 
common  plant  has  ever  seen.  These  are  the  seeds  that 
plant  the  soil  for  next  year's  vines,  and  are  the  fruits 
of  queer  little  underground  blossoms,  bearing  no  more 
resemblance  to  those  at  the  "other  end"  than  is  seen 
in  the  pods. 


A    BUTTERFLY   BOWER 


September  22d 

OMEWHERE  among  my  books  a  wistful 
poet  sings, 

"I'd  be  a  butterfly  born  in  a  bower." 

Now  I  don't  know  that  it  is  the  habit  of 
butterflies  in  general  to  be  born  in  bow- 
ers any  more  than  anywhere  else — under 
a  cabbage-leaf,  or  a  fence-rail,  or  stone,  or 
dried  leaf,  for  instance.  But  I  am  going 
to  give  my  poet  the  fullest  justice  in  assuming  that 
he  meant  to  imply  that  he  would  prefer  to  be  the 
"Hunter's"  butterfly  to  any  other  in  creation;  for  in 
this  insect  we  have  in  truth  the  one  butterfly  that  is 
literally  "  born  in  a  bower." 

Its  bower  is  composed  of  petals  and  other  parts  of 
flowers,  and  hangs  among  the  blossoms  'of  the  common 
everlasting  (Gnaphalium  decurrens}.  It  is  occasionally 
almost  concealed  among  the  flowers,  but  may  often  be 
found  quite  conspicuously  displayed,  and  three  to  four 
inches  in  length. 

If  we  take  a  walk  in  the  grassy  road,  in  the  pasture 
lot,  or  mountain  path,  we  may  now  find  dozens  of  them. 


Yonder  is  a  clump 
of  the  everlasting 
among    the    sweet -fern. 
It  is  white  with  blossoms, 
and  some  of  them  seem 
fraying  out  in  the  wind. 
Our  bower-builder  is  cer- 
\  tainly  there  ;    perhaps   a 

dozen  of  them.    Ah,  yes; 
here  is  our   bower   dan- 
gling from  the  top  of  the  stem, 
*and    blowing    in    the    breeze. 

It  is  compactly  woven  with  silk  and  petals,  and  within 
we  find — what  ?  Most  probably  a  pretty  maroon  and 
yellow  banded  spiny  caterpillar  an  inch  and  a  half  long, 
spotted  boldly  with  white,  and  perhaps  a  wonderful 
pendent  jewel  of  a  chrysalis,  apparently  of  green  bur- 
nished bronze  with  rainbow  films  and  golden  reflections, 
or  perhaps  only  a  dull  drab  affair;  but  any  one  of  them 
will  give  forth  the  same  beautiful  butterfly,  with  its 
orange  and  black  and  rose-colored  wings. 


BALLOONING  SEEDS 


September  22d 


N  a  previous  chapter  I  discussed  the  ways  of  the 
"  vagabond  ''  seeds,  the  burrs  and  "  pitchforks,"  and 
the  "  beggars'  ticks,"  with  their  singular  devices  for 
stealing  their  way  around  the  world.  In  decided 
contrast  to  these  ingenious  waifs  so  dependent  upon 
circumstance  are  their  airy  winged  companions,  and 
what  an  endless  variety  of  these  buoyant  feathered 
seeds  are  now  flying  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  on  every 
breeze  ! 

Beginning  with  the  plumy  willow  and  poplar  cotton 
of  May  that  covered  the  surface  of  the  streams  and 
washed  in  downy  drift  -rows  on  the  muddy  banks,  each 
successive  month  has  sent  its  swarms  of  winged  seeds 
upon  their  wanderings,  and  though  most  of  these  early 
broods  have  found  their  rest,  and  are  even  now,  as  in 
our  willow,  firmly  rooted  and  established  for  the  future, 
we  may  still  see  an  occasional  restless  vernal  specimen 
on  its  travels. 

The  dandelion  balls  followed  the  willows  in  the  last 
of  May  and  June,  and  launched  their  myriads  of  feath- 
ered parachutes,  one  of  the  prettiest  of  all  their  tribe. 

We  all  know  this  common  type  of  the  winged  seed, 
but  how  little  do  we  know  of  the  companions  that 


BALLOONING    SEEDS 


171 


it  meets  in  its  travels,  some  of  which  are 
even  more  beautiful  in  design. 

Every  cobweb  will   show   us  a  few  of 
them,  and  I  have  seen  a  single  autumn 


gossamer  that  offered  an  assort- 
ment of  eight  distinct  forms, 
mostly  from  the  great  order  of 
Composite,  the  very  children  of 
the  breeze.  The  thistle  is  N 

a  familiar  example.  <?f*£j 

'   -     -^.r 


-*•' 


. 

A  long  chapter  might      u.4 
be  written  on  the  pecu- 
liarities and  habits  of  winged 
seeds,  the   evident    intention 
expressed  in  their  special  designs 
/      both   in   their  wings   and    bodies,  and 
\       their  significance  to  the  botanist,  but 
I   shall    have  served  my  present  pur- 
pose if  I  awaken  the  interest  of  the  reader 
by  briefly  calling   attention    to   a  few  of 


172  SHARP    EYES 

the  more  characteristic  forms  which  are  now  floating 
about  us  with  more  or  less  frequency  in  our  autumn 
walks.  I  have  pictured  a  fanciful  eddy  wafting  aloft 
such  a  winged  swarm,  and,  considered  simply  as  designs 
in  the  abstract,  how  interesting  they  are  ! 

The  lower  member  of  the  group  might  at  first  glance 
be  taken  for  a  dandelion  seed,  but  if  seen  in  its  natural 
state  no  such  mistake  would  be  possible,  for  this  para- 
chute is  the  largest  and  one  of  the  rarest  of  our  balloon- 
ing seeds,  being  the  fruit  of  the  oyster-plant,  a  species 
having  escaped  from  gardens,  but  now  becoming  natu- 
ralized. The  total  length  of  the  seed  is  shown  natural 
size,  and  it  appears  a  giant  by  the  side  of  the  dandelion, 
its  winged  disk  measuring  an  inch  in  diameter.  The 
feathered  rays,  perfectly  flat  when  at  rest,  suggest  a 
diminutive  spider  web. 

The  form  close  behind  this  is  the  tiny  shuttlecock-  of 
the  Galinsoga,  a  weed  which  I  have  found  more  com- 
monly in  city  yards  than  elsewhere,  each  seed  being  sur- 
mounted with  a  jagged  silvery  white  star,  so  appearing 
when  viewed  from  above,  but  in  the  wind  assuming  the 
shape  shown.  The  milk-weed  and  the  dandelion  are 
seen  immediately  over  this,  with  the  long  feathery  tail 
of  the  clematis  in  the  background. 

In  all  of  these  specimens  the  flying  apparatus  has 
been  of  a  simple  character,  the  seeds  contenting  them- 
selves with  uniform  plumes.  But  here  we  have  an  in- 
dividual which  sports  a  double  assortment  of  wings,  a 
ring  of  round  white  scales  alternating  with  long  needle- 
pointed  awns.  It  is  the  pretty  star-shaped  pappus  of 
the  dwarf  dandelion  (Krigia),  whose  small  yellow  flat 
flower  is  followed  by  a  silvery  ball  of  these  seeds  quite 
as  pretty  as  the  blossom. 


The  purple  iron-weed  of  the  swamps  (Ve- 
ronia)  lets  loose  a  downy  fledgling  with  a 
row  of  teeth  and  a  tuft  of  down  for  the 
breeze.  The  wild  lettuce  sends  out  its  thou- 
sands of  flat  black  tokens,  each  with  a  slen- 
der bristle  tufted  at  the  summit,  while  a 
similar  plant,  the  blue  lettuce,  sees  no  ad- 
vantage in  this  long  appendage, 
but  attaches  its  wings  to  a  tiny 
disk  at  the  summit  of  the  fruit, 
a  fact  which  the  young 

botanist  appreciates,  for 

^  ^M^^>^: -. 

^m4$ 


•v 


this    one    pe- 
culiarity is  suf- 
ficient   to   distin- 
guish   the    plant 
from    its    otherwise 
puzzling    neighbor. 
The  aster,  cat-tail,  and 
golden -rod  are  seen 
beyond    these    seeds. 
And  I  might    follow 
on  in  a  wide  field  for 
investigation    among 
the  numberless  forms 
that  have  sailed  out  of  my 
picture,  but  are  everywhere 
to  be  found  in  the  fields. 


174  SHARP    EYES 

Any  consideration  of  winged  seeds  from  the  young 
people's  stand-point  would  be  incomplete  without  men- 
tion of  those  glistening,  fluffy,  fairy  globes  which  deft 
feminine  fingers  fashion  from  the  ripening  heads  of  the 
thistle  and  bursting  milk- weed  pods  by  tying  the  com- 
pact pappus  with  thread  and  drying  in  the  sun. 

But  now  in  September  we  may  find  a  plant  that  fur- 
nishes its  fairy  wares  even  without  the  aid  of  fingers, 
real  brownie  dust-brushes  by  the  million,  which  house- 
hold fairies  find  ready  for  use  by  the  simple  addition 
of  a  pin  for  a  handle.  It  is  the  glistening  white  puff 
of  the  groundsel  shrub  (Baccharis),  to  be  found  every- 
where along  our  coast  from  now  until  winter. 


WOULD'ST   THOU  SEE? 

HE  seeing  eie  is  the  soul 's  mysterie  which  no  man 
divinetb,  the  mortal  eie  sufficeth  for  the  windowe 
thereof  through  which  it  looketh  out.  Neither  is 
there  sight  without  quietnesse  and  constancie. 
Nor  shall  ye  see  hither  while  thy  bearte  is  yon.  Would  'st 
thou  see .?  Loohe  then  to  thy  present  concerne,  and  heede 
not  distraction,  for  thus  only  shall  thy  windowe  avail  thee 
and  thy  prospect  yield  greetinge.  Mark  how  thy  mortal  eie 
doth  give  thy  minde  ensample,  for  is  not  thine  eie  constant 
to  but  one  the  while  ?  Be  thou  so,  and  behold  thy  windowe 
shall  be  the  blest  interpreter  of  visions  and  revelations. 


THE  FAIRY   RING 


September  2Qth 


EAR  after  year,  perhaps,  we  see  the  ''fairy 
ring"  of  small  fawn-colored  mushrooms 
out  upon  our  lawn.  As  we  first  remem- 
bered it,  it  was  but  a  foot  or  so  in  diam- 
eter, and  closely  clustered,  while  with  each 
successive  crop  it  has  spread  into  a  more 
widely  scattered  circle,  until  it  is  now  several  feet  in 
area.  Who  planted  the  seed  in  this  fantastic  form,  and 
why  does  this  particular  species  especially  favor  the 
circle  or  the  crescent  in  its  method  of  growth?  These 
are  questions  which  naturally  occur  to  any  one  who  has 
seen  the  singular  phenomenon. 

The  freak  well  illustrates  the  peculiar  conditions  of 
vegetation  of  the  whole  fungous  tribe.  These  plants 
have  no  seed,  but  are  perpetuated  by  the  aid  of  myriads 
of  dust-like  spores.  This  is  well  seen  in  the  puff-ball, 
whose  smoke-like  puffs  scatter  their  countless  atoms  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth.  Though  they  may  fall  in  a  mill- 
ion places,  no  spore  will  vegetate  into  a  plant  unless 
the  conditions  which  the  puff-ball  requires  are  present 
in  the  soil. 

In  the  fairy-ring  mushroom,  as  in  all  other  mush- 
rooms, the  rule  is  the  same ;  the  spores  are  shed  from 
beneath  the  cap,  and  many  fall  upon  the  ground.  We 


1 78 


SHARP    EYES 


will  suppose  a  single  spore  to  have  been  blown  by  the 
wind  to  the  spot  upon  the  lawn.  A  single  mushroom 
or  group  is  soon  seen.  Its  spores  are  scattered  beneath 
it.  The  earth  immediately  around  the  stem  has  been 
exhausted  of  the  chemical  necessities  for  new  growth, 
and  only  such  spores  as  have  fallen  in  the  outer  edge 
of  the  circle  will  find  the  congenial  conditions  for  vege- 
tation, leaving  the  centre  bare  of  growth.  And  thus 
the  ring  enlarges  as  the  interior  soil  is  exhausted,  until 
it  occasionally  reaches  the  diameter  of  several  feet  in  a 
more  or  less  broken  circle. 


A   QUEER  "BUMBLEBEE" 


September  2gth 

HE  following  portion  of  a  letter 
from  a  Connecticut  farmer,  village 
philosopher,  oldest  inhabitant, 
weather  prophet,  and  phonetic 
expert,  is  reproduced  by  willing 
permission,  and  is  herewith  an- 
swered for  the  first  time.  It  ac- 
companied a  package  by  mail  con- 
taining the  specimen  in  question. 


'Mr.  Gibson  : 


"  SIR,— in  the  summer  of  wen  you  was  bordin  with  me 

here  at  the  farm  you  hed  a  gret  laugh  at  me  becuz  I  sed  I  seen  a 
bumble  bee  ketch  a  hoss-fly  and  eat  him  up.  ...  I  haint  fergot 
how  you  tuk  on  about  it  and  I  recoleck  thet  you  sed  I  better 
make  a  note  on't  an  swar  to  it  before  a  notry  cuz  I  wud  never  see 
the  like  agen  in  mi  born  days,  and  you  sed  thet  you  wud  give  me 
the  first  nine  dollar  bill  you  come  acrost  if  I  wud  kill  the  critter 
in  the  ack  next  time  and  thet  you  would  give  me  a  gold  plated 
goose-yoke  and  I  dont  kno  what  all  and  thet  you  wud  give  me  a 
two  dollar  bill  fer  every  bumble  bee  I  wud  send  ye  with  a  hoss- 
fly  in  his  teeth.  Likenuff  you  hev  fergoten  this  last  part  but  I 
haint.  I  sed  be  you  in  arnest  and  you  sed  you  was.  So  here  I  be 
stickin  to  the  letter  on't  and  seein  how  ded  sartin  you  was  thet  I 
was  coddin,  I  am  glad  to  be  even  with  ye. 


180  SHARP    EYES 

"  I  hev  been  waitin  a  long  while  but  luck  hez  give  me  another 
chance.  I  send  by  mail  in  a  match  box  a  bumble  bee  which  I 
ketched  last  evening.  I  seen  him  buzzin  around  fer  a  spell  while 
I  was  tnilkin  and  putty  soon  he  pitched  on  to  a  fly  on  the  barn 
door  and  took  him  to  a  catnip  bush  and  wus  eatin  him  wen  I 
give  him  a  rap  with  my  hat  and  ketched  him.  The  fly  aint  a 
hoss-fly,  pleg  on  it,  and  so  I  spose  youl  back  out  of  your  bargin 
but  it  doos  jest  soot  me  pooty  slick  to  think  how  youl  hev  to  eat 
crow  wen  you  see  the  bumble  bee  with  the  fly  in  his  mouth  killed 
in  the  ack  as  you  sed.  Larnin  is  a  vallable  thing  no  doubt  but  it 
aint  got  no  show  agin  experiens." 


The  "  bumblebee  "  was  received  in  good  condition, 
and  I  have  endeavored  to  picture  the  same  in  the  act 
of  pursuit  of  his  prey,  and  as  he  appeared  in  his  last  se- 
rene moments  when  viewing  the  pastoral  landscape 
from  the  catnip-bush,  with  my  friend  milking  in  the 
foreground.  I  thank  my  correspondent  for  the  kind  in- 
formation contained  in  his  letter,  and  assure  him  that  I 
shall  not  let  that  little  horse-fly  technicality  stand  be- 
tween him  and  his  nine-dollar  bill  and  gold-plated 
goose -yoke.  I  know  his  "bumblebee"  very  well.  No 
doubt  it  captured  the  fly  as  described.  But  did  it  oc- 
cur to  my  friend  that  he  had  possibly  overlooked  some 
important  facts  in  his  eagerness  to  get  that  goose-yoke? 
It  is  a  strange  thing,  for  instance,  that  when  our  bum- 
blebee concludes  to  dine  on  horse-flies  instead  of  hon- 
ey, he  should  suddenly  contrive  to  get  rid  of  one  pair  of 
wings!  We  will  say  nothing  of  other  lightning  changes 
that  must  have  taken  place  in  the  insect's  being,  for 
this  one  transformation  is  sufficient.  If  he  will  catch 
the  next  bumblebee  he  sees  upon  a  red-clover  blossom 
he  will  find  that  it  has  four  wings,  while  this  horse-fly 
specimen  which  he  has  sent  has  but  two.  No,  I  will 


A  QUEER  "BUMBLEBEE" 


181 


not  "  back  out  "  from  my  bargain,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
I  am  prepared  to  redouble  my  cash  inducements  for 
every  normal  two-winged  bee  of  any  kind  that  he  or 
any  one  else  will  send  me. 

What,  then,  is  our  mock  bumblebee  ?  It  is,  in  truth, 
no  bee  at  all,  but  a  rapacious  robber  fly,  which  nature 
for  some  reason  has  wonderfully  disguised  as  a  bumble- 
bee. It  hovers  in  the  flowery  haunts  of  bees,  and,  safe 
in  its  disguise,  makes  havoc 
among  the  unsuspecting  small 
fry  among  the  insects,  or  even 
among  many  nearly  as  large  as 
itself,  clutching  them  with  its 
strong  legs,  and  quickly  finish- 
ing them  with  its  strong  blood- 


1 82 


SHARP    EYES 


sucking  proboscis.  Only  last  summer,  while  sketching, 
I  observed  one  of  these  murderous  flies  hovering  about 
me,  with  a  huge  bot-fly  impaled  on  its  horny  beak. 

I  beg  to  introduce  to  my  Connecticut  friend  the 
LapJiria  fly,  warranted  to  bring  confusion  to  horse-flies 
and  rural  authorities  in  natural  history. 


HOW   TO   HANDLE   A  WASP 

September  2Qth 

AT  nerve  you  must  have !"  said  a 
companion  stroller  to  me  recently, 
as  I  caught  in  my  hand  one  com- 
mon brown  wasp  after  another  and 
twirled  it  in  my  fingers ;  "  what  nerve !  for  I  know,  of 
course,  that  they  must  all  have  stung  you,  only  you 
won't  admit  it. 

"Could  I  do  it?"  he  continued,  in  reply  to  my  ques- 
tion. "Why,  of  course  I  could  do  it,  only  I  am  not 
such  a  fool !" 

In  vain  I  assured  him  that  the  insects  were  harmless; 
in  vain  urged  him  to  clutch  a  small  swarm  which 
crawled  upon  the  fence  close  by.  But  prejudice  is  a 
difficult  obstacle,  especially  in  matters  of  this  kind,  and 
I  was  obliged  to  caress  my  wasps  alone. 

"  It  is  all  in  the  way  you  do  it,"  I  observed,  as  I 
picked  up  two  at  once  from  the  summit  of  a  golden- 
rod,  and  rolled  them  into  one  waspy  jumble  between 
my  fingers,  and  then  let  them  loose  upon  the  wing, 
none  the  worse  bodily,  even  though  somewhat  richer 
in  experience. 

At  length,  after  much  persuasion,  my  friend's  credu- 


lity  was  overcome  to  the  point 

of    trial,   and    he    grasped    his  ^^ 

wasp  with  true  heroism,  holding 

his  breath    meanwhile,  and   bringing   all   his   hypnotic 

power,  as  he  said,  to  bear  upon  the  victim,  and  to  this 

alone  he  attributed  his  escape  from  the  insect's  sting; 

for  he  handled  it  without  the  slightest  harm. 

"  You  are  right,"  he  said ;  "  it  is  all  in  the  way  you 
do  it." 

But  his  next  essay  was  not  so  conspicuous  a  success, 
and  I  express  it  but  mildly  when  I  say  that  he  has  done 
with  this  sort  of  amusement  for  all  time. 

There  is,  in  truth,  a  right  way  and  a  wrong  way  in 
the  handling  of  a  wasp.  I  read  a  few  winters  ago  what 
was  considered  a  surprising  statement,  in  a  Boston 
newspaper,  that  a  "  boy  caught  a  butterfly  at  South 
End  yesterday,  in  midwinter;"  in  commenting  upon 
which  a  New  York  natural -history  editor  sententiously 
remarked,  "  It  may  be  all  right  to  catch  a  butterfly  at 
'South  End]  but  when  you  grab  a  wasp  it  is  safer  to 
take  him  at  the  north  end." 

But  this  is  not  my  secret.     There  is  a  knack  about 


HOW   TO    HANDLE   A    WASP 


i85 


handling  a  wasp,  I  confess,  but  it  can  be  mastered  by 
any  one,  and  I  give  the  secret  for  the  benefit  of  the 
tyro  naturalist,  who  may  not  be  on  such  intimate  terms 
with  his  wasp  neighbors.  The  safest  season  for  experi- 
ment is  in  September.  You  are  now  certain  to  find 
your  wasps  in  numbers  upon  the  golden- rods  just 
emerged  from  their  paper  cells  beneath  the  eaves  or 
fences.  Creep  up  slyly,  hold  your  open  palm  within  a 
foot  of  the  insect,  and  murmur  to  your  inmost  self  the 
following  brief  sentiment, 

"Polistes  !  Polistes  !  bifrons  !  proponito  faciem  /" 

and  wait  until  the  insect  turns  towards  you,  which  it  is 
more  or  less  certain  to  do ;  then,  with  a  quick  clutch, 
grasp  your  prize.  It  is  not  necessary  to  hold  your 
breath  or  wet  your  fingers,  as  is  com- 
monly supposed ;  the  above  classic 
charm  will  work  quite  as  well  without. 
After  holding  the  insect  in  the  hollow 
of  your  hand  for  a  moment,  take  him 
boldly  between  your  fin- 
gers, roll  him,  pull  him, 
squeeze  him,  and  twirl 
him  as  you  will ;  no 
amount  of  abuse  will  in 


1 86 


SHARP    EYES 


duce  him  to  sting.     Perfect  faith  in  the  above  will  en- 
able any  one  to  handle  a  wasp  with  impunity. 

P.  S. — I  almost  forgot  to  mention  that  it  is  always 
safest  to  experiment  with  ^white-faced  wasps,  as  these 
are  drones,  and  have  no  sting. 


;• 


THE  WONDERFUL   FUNGUS   TRIBE 

October  6th 

|NE  of  the  eminent  authorities  on  fungi,  Fries, 
has  estimated  that  the  spores  in  a  single 
puff-ball  may  reach  a  total  of  ten  millions. 
Under  favorable  conditions  of  growth  their 
yield  would  cover  an  area  of  two  square 
miles.  Thousands  upon  thousands  of  puff-balls  are  sow- 
ing their  brown  spore  smoke  upon  every  autumn  breeze, 
and  millions  of  other  fungous  growths  —  toadstools, 
mushrooms,  etc. — are  also  adding  their  myriads.  Did 
the  reader  ever  stop  to  think  what  infinite  potentialities 
were  borne  in  the  cloud  of  dust  that  obscures  the  land- 
scape just  before  a  storm? 

At  first  glance  Nature  would  seem  to  be  needlessly 
prodigal  of  her  means  towards  the  perpetuation  of  these 
singular  and  omnipresent  plants.  But  her  generosity  is 
the  result  of  deep  design.  She  knows  full  well  that  not 
one  in  thousands  of  these  floating  atoms  will  ever  veg- 
etate. And  yet  they  would  seem  to  be  common  enough. 
A  single  short  walk  in  the  woods  almost  anywhere  will 
show  us  a  whole  museum  of  them,  for  they  are  almost 
universal  in  their  growth.  Hardly  a  square  foot  of  the 
leaf  mould  beneath  our  feet  but  what  is  threaded  bv 


their  white  roots  (mycelium) 
in  the  form  of  a  pale  stringy 
more  or  less  visible  mould, 
ready    after    the    first    rain 
to    send    up    its    variety    of 
curious    shapes,  here  a  puff-ball   or  a  para- 
sol, there   a  tiny  club   or   branching   yellow 
tree,  now  a  scarlet  berry  or  a  tiny  teacup  filled  with 
buttons,  or  perhaps  a  wee  mortar  that  bursts  and  hurls 
its  balls  of  spores  several  inches  across  the  leaves.     At 
first  glance  they  would  appear  to  grow  entirely  at  hap- 
hazard, but    the  student  of  fungi  soon 
learns  that   few  plants  are  more  partic- 
ular and  consistent  in  the  selection   of 
their  haunts. 

Would  you  put  the  matter  to  a  sim- 
ple test?  This  old  dead  chestnut -burr 
at  your  feet.  Let  us  examine  it.  What 
do  you  find?  It  seems  to  be  speckled 
with  tiny  white  dots  barely  larger  than 
the  period  of  this  printed  page.  If  we  turn  our  pocket- 
glass  upon  them,  we  find  them  to  be  perfectly  formed 
globular  mushrooms  growing  from  the  sides  of  the  de- 
caying spines  of  the  burr.  Each  of  these  bursts  like  a 
puff-ball,  and  sheds  thousands  of  spores,  which  are  taken 


THE  WONDERFUL  FUNGUS  TRIBE 


1 89 


up  by  the  wind  and  wafted  where  you  will.  They  fall 
in  every  conceivable  place,  but  it  is  only  when  they 
find  their  favorite  dead  chestnut -burr  that  they  care  to 
grow.  They  are  never  found  elsewhere  than  among 
these  decaying  spines.  It  is  a  distinct  species,  named 
after  the  chestnut -burr,  its  only  home. 

Here  upon  the  matted  leaves  we  find  a  little  colony 
of  small  yellow  parasols  with  long  black  stems.  They 
appear  to  be  growing  through  an  oak-leaf;  but  if  we 
carefully  tear  away  the  leaf  we  bring  our  parasols  too, 
for  they  are  true  to  the  dead  oak- leaf  only.  You  may 
find  other  similar  parasols  upon  the  maple-leaf,  but 
they  are  another  species. 

Once,  while  sitting  in  the  woods  by  the  edge  of  a 
stream,  a  young  companion  called  my  attention  to  an 
orange -colored  cone  about  three-quarters  of  an  inch 
in  height  protruding  from  a  bed  of  green  moss  at 
my  elbow.  I  discovered  it  to  be  the  cap  of  a  small 
mushroom,  whose  stem  penetrated  deep  into  the  moss. 
With  much  care  I  succeeded  in  separating  the  moss, 
being  curious  to  discover  upon  what  the  fungus  had 
grown,  and  to  my  astonish- 
ment, when  I  drew  it  to  the 


surface,  found  it 
attached    to     a 
chrysalis  an  inch 
and    a    half    in 
length.       The 
branching  roots 
of  the  fungus  penetrated 
the  interior,  and   a  dis- 
section of   the   chrysalis 
showed  the  perfectly  formed 
moth    ready   to    emerge,  but 
now   being    transformed    from 
an  insect   into  a  fungus  by  the 
absorption  of  the  plant.     What  do 
we  infer  from   this?     I  have  never 
seen  this  species  described,  except  in 
my  own  paper  in  the  Scientific  Amer- 
ican some  years  since,  but  it  is  safe  to 
assume  that  if  it  is  ever  seen  again,  in 
the    moss    or   else- 
where,  the   same 
chrysalis  will  be  drawn 
to  the  surface  with  it, 
for  it  plainly  belongs 

to  a  genus  of  fungi  of  which  ,// 

several  species  are  known,  and 
one   or    two    of   which    are 
among  the  most  remarkable 
of  their  tribe.     In  New 
Zealand,    for    instance, 
there  is  a  similar  spe- 
cies which  has  a  fancy 
for  the  head  of  a  cer- 


THE   WONDERFUL    FUNGUS   TRIBE 


tain  caterpillar.  It  grows  rapidly  to  the  length  of  sev- 
eral inches,  gradually  absorbing  the  body  of  the  insect, 
and  at  length  takes  root  in  the  ground  and  continues 
its  growth. 

In  the  Chinese  apothecaries'  shops  we  may  obtain  a 
queer  bundle,  like  a  small  bunch  of  crooked  dried  fag- 
ots, about  four  inches  in  length.  They  are  powdered 
and  used  as  medicine  by  the  innocent  Celestials,  and 
are  a  regular  article  in  their  pharmacopoeia.  It  needs 
but  a  second  glance  to  see  that  these  dried  sticks  con- 
sist of  a  long-stemmed  fungus  attached  to  the  head  of  a 
wrinkled  dead  caterpillar,  a  species  known  as  the  Sphae- 
ria  sinensis  in  the  technical  works. 

These  are  only  a  few  of  the  typical  eccentricities  of 
this  wonderful  tribe  of  .  fungous 
growths.    Almost  any  half-hour's 
walk  in  the  country  will  show 
us    many  equally   curious. 
The   instance  of  the  chest- 
nut-spine fungus  is  but  one 
of  many  similar  surprises  in 
store  for  the  amateur  fun- 
gologist. 


THE 
AUTUMN   PIPERS 

October  ijth 

IRD-NOTES  are  few  and  far  between  these 
days,  the  "  Caw  !  caw !"  of  the  distant  crows 
and    the    plaintive  warble   of   the   bluebird 
being  perhaps  the  more  notable  exceptions. 
But   a   new  order  of  music    now  follows   on   the   pro- 
gramme to  hold  the  diminuendo  until  the  frosty  days 
shall  finally  close  the  musical  season. 

There  are  a  great  number  of  sprightly  autumn  whis- 
tlers which  now  come  upon  the  scene,  either  in  solo  or 
in  chorus,  among  which  a  discriminating  ear  may  de- 
tect a  variety  of  distinct  songs.  We  all  know  the  im- 
petuous "  Tr-r-r-r-rdt !"  of  the  tree-toad  (Hyla  versico- 
lor),  even  though  we  know  not  where  to  look  for  its 
source,  having  perhaps  rested  our  eyes  upon  the  vocalist 


a  half-dozen  times  without  a 
suspicion  of  his  being  other 
than  a  variegated  fragment  of 
bark,  so  vvondrously  does  that 
mottled  gray  decoration  sym- 
pathize with  its  surroundings. 


Then  there  is  that   pure, 


194  SHARP    EYES 

shrill  pipe  of  finer  quality,  without  quaver  or  trill,  which 
is  quite  as  much  wrapt  in  mystery  as  to  its  source  as 
that  of  the  tree-toad,  except  that  it  proceeds  somewhere 
from  the  boughs  over  our  heads,  a  note  that  brings 
back  the  spring  again.  For  this  is  the  same  shrill  peep 
that  ushers  in  the  April  from  the  ripples  of  the  swamp 
— the  Hylodes,  now  turned  acrobat,  as  much  at  home 
here  among  the  trees  as  we  saw  him  in  the  bog  last 
March.  We  hear  his  pipe,  and  occasionally  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  piper  jumping  across  the  brown  dead 
leaves,  himself  as  brown  as  they,  but  the  piper  and  the 
pipe  are  rarely  caught  together. 

The  brown  leaves  also  claim  another  proteg£  dressed 
to  their  liking,  whose  somewhat  coarse  clucking  note 
occasionally  joins  the  shrill  peep  of  the  Hylodes.  We 
may  see  him  jump,  and  might  yet  almost  fail  to  find 
him  again,  so  perfect  is  his  disguise,  were  it  not  for  that 
telltale  black  cheek  which  he  wears — the  wood-frog,  an- 
other dweller  of  the  spring  swamp  out  for  a  few  months' 
airing. 

But  the  rarest  and  most  mysterious  of  all  these  forest 
peepers  yet  remains  to  be  described.  Many  of  us  have 
heard  his  sprightly  plaint  without  knowing  where  to 
place  the  credit.  Burroughs,  I  believe,  is  the  first  to 
have  traced  the  music  to  its  source,  and  caught  the  mu- 
sician in  the  act.  He  tells  of  his  discovery  as  follows : 

"  For  years  I  have  been  trying  to  ascertain  for  a  cer- 
tainty the  author  of  that  fine  plaintive  peeping  to  be 
heard  more  or  less  frequently  according  to  the  weather 
in  our  summer  and  autumn  woods.  It  is  a  note  that 
much  resembles  that  of  our  small  marsh  frogs  in  spring 
— the  Hylodes.  It  is  not  quite  so  clear  and  assured, 
but  otherwise  much  the  same.  Of  a  warm  October  day 


I  have  heard  the 
woods  vocal  with 
it.     It  seemed  to 
proceed   from  ev- 
ery stump  and  tree 
about  one.    Ordina- 
rily it  is  heard  only 
at  intervals  through 
the  woods.     Approach 
never  so  cautiously  the 
spot    from   which    the 

sound  proceeds  and  it  instantly  ceases,  and  you  may 
watch  for  an  hour  without  hearing  it  again.  '  Is  it  a 
frog,'  I  said — 'the  small  tree-frog,  the  piper  of  the 
marshes — repeating  his  spring  note  but  little  changed 
amid  the  trees?'  Doubtless  it  is,  but  I  must  see  him  in 
the  very  act.  So  I  watched  and  waited,  but  to  no  pur- 
pose, till  one  day,  while  bee-hunting  in  the  woods,  I 
heard  the  sound  proceeding  from  the  leaves  at  my  feet. 
Keeping  entirely  quiet,  the  little  musician  presently 
emerged,  and  lifting  himself  up  on  a  small  stick,  his 
throat  palpitated,  and  the  plaintive  note  again  came 
forth.  'The  queerest  frog  that  ever  I  saw,'  said  a 


196  SHARP    EYES 

youth  who  accompanied  me,  and  whom  I  had  enlisted 
to  help  solve  the  mystery.  No,  it  was  no  frog  or  toad 
at  all,  but  the  small  red  salamander  commonly  called 
lizard.  The  color  is  not  strictly  red,  but  a  dull  orange, 
variegated  with  minute  specks  or  spots.  This  was  the 
mysterious  piper,  then  heard  from  May  till  November 
through  all  our  woods,  sometimes  on  trees,  but  usually 
on  or  near  the  ground.  It  makes  more  music  in  the 
woods  in  autumn  than  any  bird.  It  is  a  pretty,  inoffen- 
sive creature,  walks  as  awkwardly  as  a  baby,  and  may 
often  be  found  beneath  stones  and  old  logs  in  the 
woods,  where,  buried  in  the  mould,  it  passes  the  winter." 


• 

^^_-;MPi-~        .   BURDOCK 

BIRD-TRAP 

October  ijth 

|E  have  indeed  a  most  formid- 
able device  in  the  tenacious 
burr  seed  of  the  burdock. 
Beset  with  hooked  -  tipped 
spines,  it  lays  firm  hold  on  every- 
thing within  reach,  and  is  not  ea- 
sily removed,  as  many  a  rural  lad 
can  testify  who  has  had  a  handful 
of  them  rubbed  into  his  hair  by  some 
playful  school-mate.  He  soon  learns, 
however,  that  pulling  is  useless,  that  each 
effort  only  increases  the  hopeless  tangle, 
and  that  only  by  crunching  and  separating 
the  seed  can  its  hooks  be  removed,  and  leave 
him  possessed  of  his  full  allowance  of  hair. 
These  eager  hooks  have,  of  course,  but  one  possible 
mission  in  the  economy  of  nature  —  to  steal  a  ride  on 
the  first  craft  that  shall  come  within  their  reach.  By 
making  the  most  of  their  opportunities  —  dog,  sheep, 
human,  and  otherwise  —  they  have  succeeded  in  travel- 
ling pretty  extensively  over  the  civilized  globe. 


I 93  SHARP    EYES 

Several  years  since  I  met  with  an  incident  which 
showed  this  tenacious  proclivity  in  a  new  light,  and  gave 
it  a  serious  significance  not  before  suspected — a  trap  for 
birds.  In  passing  through  a  copse  one  autumn  day  I 
came  upon  a  scene  such  as  I  have  here  pictured.  The 
captive  bird  was  a  chickadee,  long  dead.  It  had  appar- 
ently lit  upon  the  cluster  of  burrs,  and  its  feet  becoming 
entangled,  had  fluttered  violently  to  escape,  only  to  have 
its  wings  pinioned  securely  on  each  side,  in  which  posi- 
tion it  died.  I  have  never  seen  or  heard  of  a  similar 
instance.  Are  our  small  birds,  then,  ordinarily  acquaint- 
ed with  the  dangers  of  the  burdock  traps,  and  thus 
warned  to  avoid  them?  The  experience  of  this  chicka- 
dee would  seem  to  be  the  certain  fate  of  any  small  bird 
which  should  repeat  its  heedlessness. 

The  lesser  hooked  burrs,  such  as  the  stickseed,  beg- 
gars ticks,  sanicle,  and  agrimony  doubtless  occasionally 
come  into  contact  with  the  plumage  of  birds,  but  in 
their  diminutive  size,  though  fully  as  tenacious,  could 
scarce  prove  more  than  an  inconvenience. 


I    7 


THOSE   PUZZLING 
COCOON   CLUSTERS 

October  soth 

HEY  may  be  found  now  almost 
any  day  in  a  short  stroll  through 
the  rowen  fields.  I  have  picked 
over  fifty  clusters  in  one  short 
walk  across  an  October  meadow.  They 
are  generally  attached  in  a  circular  clus- 
ter about  a  grass  stem,  thirty  to  fifty  in 
number,  of  the  size  shown  in  the  illus- 
tration, and  may  be  either  white  or 
pale  sulphur  yellow  in  color.  To  the 
casual  observer  they  appear  like  tiny  ob- 
long eggs,  but  they  are  in  truth  firmly 
woven  silken  cocoons,  and  though  we 
may  discover  hundreds  of  them  in 
the  grass,  there  are  few  observers 
who  would  be  likely  to  guess 
their  origin,  for  it  is  a  rare  find 
to  catch  the  spinner  at  its  work. 
Such  a  discovery  would  indeed 
be  a  surprise  to  most  of  us,  as 
will  be  seen. 


2OO  SHARP    EYES 

If  we  preserve  a  few  of  these  clusters  in  a  box  until 
next  spring  we  shall  be  treated  to  a  singular  spectacle. 
At  the  appointed  day,  each  egg-shaped  cocoon  suddenly 
flies  open,  with  a  lid  at  the  top,  and,  like 
a  tiny  black  "jack-in-the-box,"  a  small 
midget  of  a  fly  is  seen  standing  upright 
within,  and  at  length  emerging.     I  have 
before  me  as  I  write  a  small  phial  with  a 
hundred    or    more    of    the    empty   silken 
cases,  each  with  its  dainty  lid  either  fully 
upraised,  or  with    an   occasional   pair  of 
curious    eyes    peeping    out    through    the 
half -opened  crevice.     The  flies  are  very 
small,  but  great  in  mischief,  and  if  we  could  but  follow 
one  of  them  as  we  release  it  from  the  window,  we  might 
soon  learn  the  secret  of  that  cluster  of  cocoons. 

Yonder  on  the  red  clover  leaf  a  small  green  caterpil- 
lar is  feeding.     Nature  has  intended  him  to  blossom  out 
into  a  pale  yellow  butterfly  (Philodice)  next  September 
if  all  goes  well  with  him.     But,  no,  it  is  not  so  ordained; 
for  though  it  takes  a  sharp  eye  to  find  him  there  against 
the  clover  stem,  our  tiny  fly  has  espied 
him,  and  has  been  on   the   lookout   for         £p,j 
him   from  the  moment  she  first  /^, 

peeped  from  the  little  silken  box.     S^W? 
In  a  twinkling  she  has  lit  upon      ^K&££ltK2!&L& 
him,  and  soon  has  plant-  -l,^' •'? 

ed    a    number    of    eggs  /       /-^SP-    S"**  ^ 

within  his  body.     He  '-  y      ./^/  '  """"^.^ 

expostulates  with  y/ 

his   tormenter  cat-  ••  ff 

erpillar     fashion,  '^-*^<-  ^- 

and  wriggles  from 


/ 


/    ' 


THOSE    PUZZLING   COCOON    CLUSTERS  2OI 

side  to  side  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  concludes  to 
make  the  best  of  a  bad  matter  and  forget  his  troubles 
in  a  generous  meal  of  clover,  for  he  now  must  eat  for  a 
host  where  he  ate  for  but  one  before. 

In  a  few  days  the  eggs  have  hatched  into  minute 
larvae ;  these  attach  themselves  to  the  tissues  within  his 
body,  and  are  probably  little  more  than  an  inconven- 
ience to  our  caterpillar  until  the  final  few  moments  of 
his  career.  He  now  suddenly  loses  his  appetite,  and 
feels  an  "  all  gone  "  sensation,  such  as  few  dyspeptics 
ever  experience.  In  a  few  minutes  we  shall  look  for 
him  in  vain,  his  place  being  occupied  by  a  cluster  of 
white  or  yellow  cocoons  and  a  few  whitish  grubs  half 
hid  in  their  unfinished  webs.  An  hour  ago  he  was  a 
full-grown,  apparently  normal  caterpillar;  now  nothing 
remains  of  his  identity  but  a  thin,  shrivelled  skin  down 
among  the  grass,  while  the  butterfly  of  his  hope  has 
given  place  to  a  brood  of  black  ichneumon -flies  —  a 
most  pregnant  illustration,  drawn  from  real  life,  of  the 
dire  consequences  of  indwelling,  abiding  sin,  which  is  re- 
spectfully referred  to  the  consideration  of  our  pulpit 
counsellors. 


THE  WITCH-HAZEL   BOMBARDMENT 


October  2oth 

NE  by  one  the  lingering  wild  flowers 
have  succumbed  to  the  frosts ;  a 
few  of  the  hardy  asters  being  the 
only  reminders  of  the  regal  glory 
of  the  October  copses. 

But  though  the  blighting  breath 
of  the  approaching  winter  is  fast 
quenching  even  these  remnants  of  bloom,  there  is  one 
fresh  blossom  which  shall  abide  to  welcome  "  chill  Nov- 
ember," even  as  the  dandelion  welcomed  May,  and  as 
the  rose  and  the  golden-rod  welcomed  June  and  Sep- 
tember. The  waving  pennants  of  the  witch-hazel,  coil- 
ed for  weeks  within  their  patient  buds,  are  now  swung 
out  from  thousands  of  gray  twigs  in  the  copses,  and 
the  underwoods  are  lit  up  with  the  yellow  halo  from 
their  myriads  of  fringy  petals. 

These  luminous  blossoms  are  very  well  known  to 
most  dwellers  in  the  country,  but  there  is  something 
else  going  on  there  among  the  twigs  which  few  observ- 
ers have  suspected.  It  is  a  mischievous  haunt  out  there 
among  the  witch-hazels  about  this  time.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  caper  it  played  upon  me  years  ago. 

I  had  been  attracted  by  a  bush  which  showed  an  un- 


THE    WITCH-HAZEL    BOMBARDMENT 


203 


usual  profusion  of  bloom,  and  while  standing  close  be- 
side it  in  admiration  I  was  suddenly  stung  on  the  cheek 
by  some  missile,  and  the  next  instant  shot  in  the  eye 
by  another,  the  mysterious  marksman  having  apparently 
let  off  both  barrels  of  * 
his  little  gun  directly 
in  my  face. 

I  soon  discovered 
him  —  an  army  of 
them  in  fact,  a  saucy 
legion  —  all  grinning 
with  open  mouths  and 


white  teeth  exposed,  and  their  double-barrelled  guns 
loaded  to  the  muzzle,  and  ready  to  shoot  whenever  the 
whim  should  take  them. 

These  little  sharp-shooters  I  have  shown  in  my  illus- 
tration. They  are  the  double-barrelled  guns  of  the 
witch-hazel — the  ripe  pods  of  last  year's  flowers — now 


204  SHARP    EYES- 

opening  everywhere  in  the  woods  among  the  yellow 
blossoms.  Each  pod  contains  two  long  black  shining 
seeds  of  bony  hardness.  The  pod  splits  in  half,  expos- 
ing the  two  white-tipped  seeds.  The  edges  of  the 
horny  cells  contract  against  the  sides  of  the  seed,  and 
finally  expel  it  with  surprising  force,  sometimes  to  the 
distance  of  over  forty  feet.  If  we  sit  quiet  on  a  sunny 
day  in  a  witch-hazel  copse  we  may  hear  the  dry  leaves 
rattle  with  the.  continual  bombardment.  A  branch  of 
the  unopened  pods  brought  home  and  placed  in  the 
vase  upon  the  mantel  will  afford  considerable  amuse- 
ment as  the  seeds  rattle  about  the  room,  singling  out 
their  whimsical  targets,  or,  perhaps,  carrom  around  from 
walls  and  ceiling,  from  the  glass  lamp-shade  upon  the 
table,  or  the  evening  newspaper  of  paterfamilias,  or, 
possibly,  the  bald  spot  upon  his  head. 


THE  SALUTE 

FROM  THE   VIOLET 

0 

October  2?th 

HE  witch-hazel   is  not   the  only  sharp- 
shooter of  the  autumn  woods.     It  has 
a  tiny  rival  down  there  among  the  dried 
leaves,  which,  in  proportion  to  its  size, 
quite  as  valiant — the  blue  spring  violet — 
and  with  which  it  doubtless  exchanges  an  oc- 
casional salute. 

"  But  the  season  of  the  violet  was  closed  some 
six  months  ago,"  you  remark.    "  What  has  Novem- 
ber to  do  with  violet  seeds?" 

Yes,  the  "  blue  violet "  which  the  world  knows  closed 
its  season  in  May;  but  having  devoted  a  month  or  so  to 
vanity,  it  has  since  been  settling  down  to  sober  realities 
of  life,  and  the  cares  of  maternity — scattering  its  broods 
through  the  woods. 

There  are  blossoms  there  among  those  seeds  even 
now  which  the  frost  will  probably  kill  —  perfect  blos- 
soms. To  be  sure  they  have  no  petals,  but  all  these 
shooting  pods,  that  are  pinching  out  their  pear-shaped 
seeds  a  distance  of  ten  feet  upon  the  dried  leaves,  were 
preceded  by  just  such  blossoms,  tiny,  pointed  affairs, 


206 


SHARP    EYES 


which  never  even  peep  beyond  their  calyx.     How  few 
of  our  wild-flower  hunters  know  their  "blue  violet?" 

My  illustration,  the  Viola  cucullata,  is  a  specimen 
which  grew  in  my  city  garden,  a  plant  brought  from 
the  woods  and  which  soon  made  itself  too  much  at 
home.  The  singular  cleft  form  of  the  leaf  was  the 
cause  of  its  original  selection,  a  variety  known  as  the 
"  hand  leaf,"  and  which  is  a  frequent  "  sport "  of  this 
species  of  violet.  In  its  new  quarters  it  devotes  itself 
particularly  to  a  rank  growth  of  its  peculiar  foliage, 
showing  but  few  flowers ;  but  in  the  late  summer  and 
autumn,  when  no  one  ever  thinks  of  a  violet,  the  plant 
is  prolific  in  bloom,  invisible  to  the  general  observer,  but 
easily  seen  on  close  examination  of  the  soil  at  its  root. 
Every  sunny  day,  even  until  the  middle  of  November, 
the  three-cornered  stars  of  the  opening  pods  may  be 
seen  by  hundreds,  and  all  the  neighboring  grass-plot 
and  borders  are  sown  with  violet  seeds. 


. 


t 


October  zjth 

NY  one  who  is  at  all  acquainted 
with  botany  knows  that  a  willow 
has  no  right  to  have  a  cone.    The 
pine,  spruce,  hemlock,  larch,  and 
others  of  their  evergreen  tribe  are 
supposed   to  have  a  monopoly  of 
cones.     The  magnolia  has  a  sort   of 
cone-shaped  fruit,  'tis   true,  and  the 
tulip- tree  another,  but  they  are  not  true 
cones,  after  all,  and  there  are  only  a  few 
of  similar  mimics  among  fruits.    Yet  here 
we  find  a  willow  bearing  dozens  of  cones  ap- 
/         parently  as  perfect  as  any  that  the  pine-tree  can 
'/         show,  which  is,  in  truth,  no  fruit  at  all.     They  are 
an  inch  or  an  inch  and  a  half  in  length,  and  grow 
on  the  tips  of  the  branches.     Yet  we  know  perfectly 
well  that  all  the  axils  of  the  leaves  below  have  already 


2O8  SHARP    EYES 

turned  out  their  proper  willow  fruits  in  the  "cottony 
seeds"  of  early  spring.  What,  then,  is  this  spurious 
fruit  which  we  now  see  everywhere  among  the  leafless 
dwarf  willows? 

Look !  Yonder  chickadee  can  tell  us  all  about  it. 
He  knows  the  confusing  botanist  that  would  make  a 
pine  out  of  a  willow.  See !  He  alights  upon  a  branch, 
and  now  inserts  his  bill  at  the  apex  of  the  cone,  and 
probes  the  interior.  Presently  the  probe  is  withdrawn, 
and  with  it  the  tiny  expert  who  is  responsible  for  this 
mischievous  confusion — a  small  orange- colored  grub, 
which  has  been  sleeping  and  luxuriating  for  weeks 
within  the  hollow  core  of  the  growing  cone.  It  is  per- 
fectly plain  from  an  examination  of  a  section  of  this 
cone,  with  its  layer  on  layer  of  leafy  scales,  its  hollow 
cavity  at  the  centre,  and  of  course  no  sign  of  any  seed, 
that  it  was  designed  merely  as  a  home  for  this  plump 
larva. 

And  why,  then,  has  this  willow  been  so  accommodat- 
ing as  to  give  up  its  own  plans,  and  sprout  this  tiled 
domicile  for  a  yellow  grub  to  which  it  is  under  no  obli- 
gation ? 

If  we  gather  a  few  of  the  cones  and  keep  them  until 
next  spring,  we  shall  see  the  real  magician  who  has  vou- 
dooed  the  willow — a  tiny  fly  (Cecidomyia  strobiloides  of 
the  naturalists),  that  tampers  with  the  willow  buds  of 
spring,  and  with  some  magical  medicine  humors  it  into 
thus  taking  care  of  its  young  ones.  This  cone  is  one  of 
thousands  of  similar  gall  growths  upon  various  plants, 
such  as  the  rosy  ball  on  the  cinque-foil,  the  crimson 
sponge  on  the  sweetbrier,  or  the  swollen  tumors  on 
the  high  blackberry  stems,  with  their  hundreds  of 
squirming  tenants,  all  of  the  same  origin,  caused  by  the 


THAT   WILLOW   CONE 


209 


stings  of  tiny   insects  and   the   implanting  of   their 
eggs. 

It  must  have  escaped  the  notice  of  old  Gerarde,  the 
botanist  of  two  centuries  ago,  else  he  had  doubtless 
classed  this  species  as  the  "cone-willow,"  even  as  he  act- 
ually classified  another  willow  as  a  "  rose  "  on  account 
of  a  similar  insect  excrescence,  in  which  the  bud  was 
transformed  into  a  dense  cluster  of  leaves  somewhat 
suggesting  a  rose — a  species  which  may  frequently  be 
found  in  company  with  our  "  cone." 


FROST- FLOWER 

November  jd 

is  called   the   "  frost  -  weed  "  in 
our  botany.     But  when  we  know 
that  it  blooms  only  in  July,  and 
has  gone  to  seed  by  August,  we  may 
well  wonder   at   the  christening;   and 
though  the  botany  clearly  tells  us  why 
it  is  so  named,  it  is  always  a  surprise 
when  we  first  verify  it  in  the  fields. 

Properly  speaking,  we  have  but  one 
true  frost -flower — a  flower  that  awaits 
the  season  of  frost  as  its  chosen  period 
of  blossoming — and  that  is  the  witch- 
hazel,  of  which  I  wrote  last  week.     The  chick- 
weed  often  blooms  beneath  the  snow  in  mid- 
winter, but  this  is  at  best  a  tardy  blossom  of  a  plant 
that  bloomed  in  summer;  it  is  not  a  true  frost-flower 
like  the  witch-hazel.     The  plant  which   forms  the 
subject  of  this  article  is  a   "frost-flower"   in   another 
and  more  curious  sense. 

The  botanical  name   of  the   plant   is  Helianthemum 


THE    FROST- FLOWER  211 

Canadense.  It  is  richly  endowed  with  blossoms  —  three 
sorts,  in  truth.  One  bright  showy  one  of  July,  which 
soon  withers,  followed  in  August  and  September  by 
thousands  of  others  on  each  plant,  though  no  one  would 
guess  it,  so  minute  are  they;  and  again,  now  in  No- 
vember, the  third  and  quaintest  blossom  of  them  all. 

The  July  blossom  is  indicated  in  my  illustration.  It 
is  bright  yellow,  about  an  inch  across,  with  its  stamens 
flatly  pressed  against  the  petals,  and  two  or  three  are 
occasionally  in  bloom  at  once.  The  November  flower 
is  also  shown  in  my  panel  picture  —  the  flower  from 
which  the  plant  is  named,  but  which  few  people  ever 
see.  Almost  any  morning  during  the  past  week,  after  a 
severe  frost,  would  have  shown  it  to  us  among  the 
stubble  where  the  plants  are  known  to  grow,  glistening 
like  specks  of  white  quartz  down  among  the  brown 
herbage  close  to  the  base  of  the  stem. 

It  is  a  flower  of  ice  crystal  of  purest  white  which 
shoots  from  the  stem,  bursting  the  bark  asunder,  and 
fashioned  into  all  sorts  of  whimsical  feathery  curls  and 
flanges  and  ridges.  It  is  often  quite  small,  but  some- 
times attains  three  inches  in  height  and  an  inch  or  more 
in  width.  It  is  said  to  be  a  crystallization  of  the  sap  of 
the  plant,  but  the  size  of  the  crystal  is  often  out  of  all 
proportion  to  the  possible  amount  of  sap  within  the 
stem,  and  suggests  the  possibility  that  the  stem  may 
draw  extra  moisture  from  the  soil  for  this  special  occa- 
sion. The  frost -flower  is  well  named. 


NOVEMBER   BIRDS 

November 

I 


HE  glow  of  the  autumnal  tints  has  now 
almost  faded  from  the  hill-side,  and  is 
smouldering  beneath  the  ashen  gray  of 
naked  twigs ;  for  the  sound  of  rustling 
leaves  now  follows  us  in  our  rambles  in 
the  woods. 

The  wilds  are  almost  desolate  as  to  bird  voices;  the 
plaintive  note  of  the  bluebird  is  the  sweetest  note  these 
days,  and  the  jargon  of  the  distant  crows  is  November's 
own. 

But  the  crows  we  have  always  with  us,  and  their  vo- 
cal strain  is  never  much  of  a  novelty.  Most  of  the  great 
choir  of  spring  songsters  are  now  on  their  migration  to 
the  South  —  the  bobolinks  (such  as  have  escaped  the 
shot-guns  of  New  Jersey  and  Pennsylvania),  song-spar- 
rows, thrushes,  orioles,  vireos,  etc. — and  those  that  now 
remain  with  us  are  mostly  so  shy  and  uncommunicative 
as  to  be  scarcely  recognizable  by  their  friends. 

But  these  November  remnants  of  the  spring  and  sum- 
mer are  not  my  "  November  birds."  November,  at  least 
with  us  in  New  England,  has  its  own  especial  birds, 
even  as  it  has  its  flower.  But  they  are  ours  for  a  few 
days  or  weeks  only — brief  visitors,  birds  of  passage  from 
the  North,  that  touch  and  go,  as  it  were,  sampling  our 


NOVEMBER    BIRDS  213 

meadow  crumbs  in  their  leisurely  journey  to  the  South, 
and  we  should  avail  ourselves  of  the  opportunities  to 
make  their  acquaintance. 

Prominent  among  the  list  of  these  rare  visitors  is  the 
fox- sparrow,  which  may  now  be  seen  in  flocks  in  the 
woods,  in  size  suggesting  a  thrush,  but  whose  stouter 
bill  and  foxy  dress  and  compact  build  will  readily  iden- 
tify him.  Then  there  is  quite  a  brood  of  tiny  warblers 
which  are  now  passing  our  way,  either  as  the  pioneers 
of  those  coming  flocks,  or  loiterers  of  flocks  already 
gone.  The  autumnal -streaked  warbler,  with  its  jetty 
head  and  white  cheek  and  gray  and  black  streaked  back 
and  breast  (Dendroica  striatd),  is  a  common  straggler  in 
our  November  woods ;  also  the  yellow-rumped  warbler, 
with  yellow  crown,  black  cheek,  and  broad  black  stripe 
on  the  breast  under  the  wing  (D.  coronatci).  The  Cape 
May  warbler  is  considered  the  rarest  of  these  flying 
callers  (D.  tigrina).  Its  throat  and  breast  are  of  a  bright 
yellow,  streaked  with  black.  A  yellow  line  over  the 
eye  and  the  tan-colored  cheek,  with  melting  tinge  of  the 
same  color  around  the  back  of  the  head  and  upon  the 
throat,  will  help  to  identify  the  species.  Then  there  are 
yellow  redpoll  and  black  and  yellow  warblers,  whose 
distinguishing  features  are  well  indicated  in  their  names, 
though  the  latter  has  lost  some  of  its  black  in  its  au- 
tumn plumage. 

Among  the  most  constant  of  these  autumn  birds  is 
the  snow-bird,  with  its  black  head  and  ashen-gray  body. 
He  has  only  just  arrived  with  us,  but  inasmuch  as  he 
will  abide  with  us  all  winter  he  is  not  properly  one  of 
my  "  November  birds."  The  most  conspicuous  of  all 
these  November  comers  is  the  white  bunting,  or  white 
snow-bird,  which  arrives  with  the  first  flying  snow-flakes, 


and  through  the  winter  their  flocks 
may  be  seen  flying  before  the  wind  in 
the  clouds  of  drifting  snow,  for  they, 
too,  have  come  to  stay  with  us.  Their 
summer  has  been  spent  among  the 
arctic  snows.  They  are  lovers  of  the 
cold,  and  in  their  migrations  keep  to 
the  edge  of  the  severest  winter,  going 
southward  as  the  cold  increases,  but 
never  at  home  without  the  snow  and 
the  biting  cold. 

But  my  one  November  bird,  which 
is  the  crown  jewel  of  them  all,  yet  re- 
mains to  be  described.     We  may 
confidently  look   for  him   now 


NOVEMBER    BIRDS  215 

out  in  the  orchard  or  border  thicket  of  the  woods.  He 
passed  us  in  his  northward  trip  early  last  spring,  but  was 
lost  in  the  throng.  But  now  he  is  almost  alone,  and  we 
should  not  let  our  November  pass  without  paying  our 
compliments  to  him,  almost  the  tiniest  of  our  native 
birds.  His  total  length  is  only  four  and  a  half  inches, 
his  plumage  generally  of  a  dull  olive-color,  but  he  wears 
a  crown  of  the  brightest  vermilion,  which  is  his  unique 
feature.  You  would  hardly  suspect  it  as  you  see  him 
there,  almost  within  touch  of  your  hand,  prying  among 
the  dead  leaves  upon  the  apple  branch.  Strangely 
enough,  he  seems  especially  careful  to  keep  it  conceal- 
ed beneath  the  surrounding  olive  feathers.  "  Ruby- 
crowned  Kinglet,"  he  is  called — "  kinglet,"  a  little  king. 
There  are  few  crowned  heads  of  larger  size  that  wear  a 
brighter  coronet  than  the  Regulus  calendula.  His  is  a 
needless  lesson,  for  certainly  none  of  his  superiors  in 
size  has  more  reason  to  display  the  crown  than  he. 


THE    ASH    PADDLE, 
AND    THE   BIRCH    BARK 


November  loth 


HAT   a   pleasant   rus- 
tle   is  this  which  we 
hear    now    in    the 
denuded  woods  from 
the  brown  dry  clusters  of  the 
ash   seeds  overhead  !      It  is  enough 
to  sit  beneath  the  trees  and  simply 
listen,  but    we    should    not    stop   at 
listening.     This    ash    seed,  consid- 
ered merely  as  a  seed,  with  its  trim 
contour  and  shapely  symmetry,  and 
its  gamut  of  soft  tints  of  olives  and 
browns,  is  a  beautiful  creation.    The 


botany   designates    this 
particular  form    of  seed 
as  a  samara,  or  winged 
fruit,  of  which  the  flut- 
tering broods  of  the  ma- 
ple, the  pine,  tulip-tree, 
and    elm    are  other  fa- 
miliar examples;    but 
this  rustling  ash  seed 
has  a  little  more  to  say 
to  us  —  that  is,  if  the 
reader  is  of  my  way  of  think- 
ing—  than    is   found    in    the 
botany.    Every  now  and  then 
a   stray  seed   flutters   down 
in    its   dizzy   whirling   flight 
and  settles  lightly  upon  the 
dry  leaves.     Let   us  look  at 
one  closely,  and  as  we  look 
give  freedom  to  our  fancy. 

Something   in    the    design 
of  this  flat-bladed  samara  will  surely  set  us  thinking 
and  irresistibly  suggest  a  series  of  questions. 

What  is  the  favorite  and  most  ancient  timber  from 
which  the  oar  and  paddle  are  made  ?  The  ash.  Who, 
then,  was  the  primeval  wood -craftsman  who  first  took 

this  unmistakable 
hint  from  this  singu- 
lar seed — for  is  it  not 
a  perfect  model  for 
the  Indian  paddle  or 
the  blade  of  the  mod- 
ern oar?  How  many 


2l8  SHARP    EYES 

centuries  did  these  clusters  of  prophetic  seeds  rustle 
against  the  white  bark  of  the  birch,  awaiting  that  ul- 
timate association  of  utility  in  the  Indian  canoe  and 
paddle? 

Nor  is  this  the  only  model  which  the  ash  bestows. 
There  are  half  a  dozen  native  species  of  this  tree,  each 
with  its  especial  design  of  paddle — here  a  long  tapering 
and  there  a  broad  and  abrupt  blade,  each,  no  doubt,  the 
faithful  expression  of  its  particular  parent  tree — of  the 
grain  and  fibre  of  its  being.  Confusion,  then,  to  the 
wood-craftsman  who  shall  violate  its  precept  and  shape 
his  red-ash  paddle  upon  the  blue-ash  model ! 

The  birch  and  the  ash  are  further  wedded  in  the  tro- 
phies of  the  Indian.  We  have  seen  where  he  obtained 
his  model  for  the  paddle;  who  knows  where  he  found 
his  hint  for  the  fashioning  of  the  stone  arrow-heads 
which  he  bound  upon  the  ash  shafts  of  his  arrow? 

"The  birchen  bough  drops  its  bright  spoil 
Like  arrow-heads  of  gold," 

says  Bryant,  in  his  poem  to  "  October,"  in  allusion  to 
the  autumn  foliage  of  the  smaller  white  birch,  whose 
leaf  might  well  serve  as  a  pattern  for  many  an  Indian 
arrow-head  in  the  archaeological  collections. 


BIRD-NEST    MATERIALS 


Nowmber  i"]th 


NOTHER  bright  winter's  day.  To 
the  woods  to  see  what  birds'  nests 
are  made  of."  Such  is  the  brief 
entry  in  Thoreau's  winter  journal  one 
January  day,  over  thirty  years  ago,  and 
in  others  of  his  pages  we  read  of  his  pur- 
suing the  same  quest,  and  stopping  in  his 
walks  to  unravel  the  deserted  hanging-bas- 
kets of  the  vireos  and  other  birds.  Many  winter 
walkers  before  and  since  Thoreau's  time  have  followed 
the  same  amusement.  It  is  an  attractive  and  instruc- 
tive pastime,  and  will  give  added  zest  to  our  autumn 
or  winter  stroll.  The  woods  are  now  nearly  bare  of 
foliage — 

"  Boughs  are  daily  rifled 
By  the  gusty  thieves, 
And  the  book  of  nature 
Getteth  short  of  leaves  " — 


220 


SHARP    EYES 


and  hundreds  of  nests  which  before  were  completely 
concealed  are  now  disclosed  on  right  and  left.  What 
a  surprising  list  of  materials  have  these  feathered 
builders  gathered  in  their  gleaning!  What  singular 
preferences  and  whimsical  fancies  are  shown  in  almost 
any  deserted  nest  you 
may  meet ! 

Let    us    begin   with 
this   gray  vireo's   nest 


hung  here  almost  across 
our  path  in  the  woods. 

How  little  did  we  suspect  its  presence  as  we  passed 
this  way  last  June!  What  are  the  materials  of  this 
basket  hanging  here  in  the  fork  of  the  maple  ?  Let  us 
unravel  it.  It  is  already  somewhat  worn  and  weather- 
beaten,  but  it  will  be  many  a  month  before  these  tough 
strands  which  enwrap  the  twig  are  loosened.  Here  we 
find  the  toughest  material  of  the  nest,  our  wise  bird 


BIRD-NEST   MATERIALS  221 

having  selected  fibres  of  inner  bark,  spider,  and  cocoon 
silk,  and  strips  from  the  milk-weed  stalk — strong  as  flax 
— to  moor  its  cradle. 

The  compact  body  of  the  nest  gives  a  singular  vari- 
ety ;  here  are  strips  of  white  and  yellow  birch  bark,  as- 
ter calyxes,  cobwebs,  a  blue-bottle  fly,  spider-egg  silk 
tufts,  slender  roots,  bits  of  pith,  skeletonized  leaves, 
pine-needles,  old  cocoons  of  the  tussock-moth,  grass, 
caterpillar- hairs,  dandelion  seeds,  moss,  and  feathers. 
A  broad  piece  of  mottled  gray  paper- like  substance 
forms  the  outside  base  of  the  nest.  We  might  have 
been  certain  of  finding  this  —  a  fragment  of  hornet's- 
nest,  one  of  the  favorite  fabrics  of  all  the  vireos.  And 
what  is  this  white  weather-beaten  fragment  which 
crops  out  beneath  it?  A  bit  of  newspaper!  Further 
unravelling  shows  a  number  of  similar  pieces  embedded 
in  the  fabric,  and  one  or  two  are  seen  on  the  ground 
beneath  the  nest. 

Such  were  the  ingredients  of  a  certain  vireo's  nest 
which  I  once  found,  and  which  I  have  selected  as  my 
present  specimen.  It  was  a  nest  of  the  red-eyed  vireo, 
and  though  quite  an  average  specimen  of  its  kind,  it 
proved  in  one  respect  a  remarkable  disclosure,  as  I 
will  explain.  Most  of  the  fragments  of  the  nest  I 
threw  away,  but  I  found  in  the  newspaper  bits  a  rev- 
elation which  led  me  to  preserve  them  most  carefully. 
Not  that  the  newspaper  element  was  an  exceptional 
rarity,  for  all  the  vireos  have  a  fancy  for  this  peculiar 
material.  Indeed,  the  white-eyed  vireo  was  called  the 
"politician"  by  an  old  ornithologist  because  of  this 
very  fondness  for  the  newspaper.  But  why  did  I  pre- 
serve these  particular  newspaper  selections  above  oth- 
ers? As  I  have  said,  the  nest  was  that  of  a  red-eyed 


222 


SHARP    EYES 


vireo.  This  bird  has  been  called  the  "preacher"  by 
Wilson  Flagg,  a  close  bird  observer,  who  had  noted 
the  peculiar,  continuous,  deliberate  song-sermon  of  the 
bird  in  the  tree-top.  Remembering  this,  I  was  led  to 
scan  with  curiosity,  as  I  had  often  done  in  previous 
nests,  the  text  of  these  weather-beaten  waifs  of  news. 
There  were  about  a  dozen  pieces  in  all.  In  most  of 
them  the  print  was  worn  and  illegible,  and  in  others  so 
fragmentary  as  to  be  without  sense.  But  at  length  I 
came  upon  the  sentiment  which  I  have  here  reproduced 
r  by  photography, 

the  only  single 
perfect  sentence 
to  be  found  in 
all  the  print — 
my  "preacher's" 
text — "have  in 
view  the  will  of 

Godr 

But  I  have  not 
begun  to  men- 
tion all  the  curi- 
ous things  that 
are  woven  into  a 

vireo's  fabric.  These  nests  are  the  "  samplers  "  of  nat- 
ure's nest  textiles,  and  each  one  may  have  a  new  sur- 
prise for  us.  I  once  found  one  which  was  decorated 
with  a  hundred  or  more  black  spiny  caterpillar-skins. 
Another  showed  the  gauzy  mitten  of  a  toad.  Another 
a  half-yard  of  lace  edging.  And  only  last  year  I  dis- 
covered the  most  singular  specimen  of  all — a  real  nov- 
elty even  for  a  vireo — a  nest  almost  entirely  composed 
of  snake-skins. 


THE 
SNAKE-SKIN   HUNTER 

November  ijth 


(T  would  be  interesting  to 
know  just  where  our  whim- 
sical vireo  obtained  those 
snake-skins.  A  fragment  of 

snake -skin,  or  even  one  whole  skin,  we  might  allow 
him;  but  three  or  four!  this  is  rather  suspicious. 
Had  he  discovered  a  family  of  sleepy  striped  snakes 
about  to  drop  their  winter  clothing,  and  taken  care  of 
their  cast-off  garments  one  by  one  as  they  were  left  in 
the  grass?  But  this  is  stretching  a  point  in  favor  of  our 
vireo  and  his  valor.  I  rather  suspect  that  this  particular 


224  SHARP    EYES 

nest  represented  a  raid  on  the  stores  of  another  bird 
noted  for  his  partiality  to  the  snake-skin.  Once,  when 
a  boy,  while  investigating  a  woodpecker's  den  in  a  wil- 
low-tree, I  pulled  from  the^  bottom  a  handful  of  snake- 
skins.  Knowing  the  habits  of  snakes  in  the  casting  of 
their  sloughs,  and  knowing,  too,  that  the  "  racer,"  or 
black-snake,  was  a  good  climber,  I  concluded  that  I  had 
intruded  upon  the  private  dressing-room  of  the  snake, 
and  not  knowing  how  soon  he  might  return  to  change 
his  clothes,  I  quickly  left  the  premises.  A  few  years 
later  the  mystery  was  explained  in  my  ornithology.  I 
had  found  a  deserted  nest  of  the  great  crested  fly-catch- 
er. This  bird  is  the  snake  specialist,  and  its  nest  in  the 
deserted  woodpecker's  hole  is  seldom  free  from  a  gener- 
ous lining  of  snake- skins  of  various  kinds  and  sizes. 

Here  are  a  few  of  the  eccentric  specialties  of  other 
nest-builders: 

Wren Feathers. 

Chipping-sparrow Horse-hair  and  roots. 

Solitary  vireo Coon-hair,  deer-hair. 

Snow-bunting Fox-hair. 

Worm-eating  warbler. .  .Hickory  and  chestnut  catkins. 

Ovenbird Dried  spore-stems  of  mosses. 

Purple  finch Hog-bristles  and  horse-hair. 

Kentucky  warbler Pith  of  weeds. 

Prairie  warbler Cast-off  caterpillar-skins. 

Yellow  warbler Feathery  seeds. 

Blue-gray  gnat-catcher  . .  Bud-scales,  dried  blossoms,  and  fern-down. 

Humming-bird Fern-wool,  red-oak  leaf-down. 

Baltimore  oriole Milk-weed  bark,  horse-hair,  and  long  moss. 

Yellow-billed  cuckoo Small  sticks. 

Robin Grass  and  mud. 

Golden-crested  wren. . .  .Spanish-moss. 

Chimney  swift Home-made  glue  (saliva)  and  sticks. 

It  will  be  seen  that  there  is  a  wide  variety  of  choice 


THE   SNAKE-SKIN    HUNTER 


225 


* 


he 

• 


' 


among  the  birds.  No  doubt,  like 
other  two-legged  artists,  they  en- 
joy most  spirited  squabbles  among 
themselves  as  to  the  comparative 
merits  of  hogs'  bristles  and  badger- 
hair,  or  of  this  or  that  method  of 
laying  on  the  paper,  hornet- nest, 
horse-hair,  or  caterpillar-skins.  We 
must  admit,  of  course,  that  there 
is  some  particular  virtue  in 
each  of  these  ingredients, 
but  we  must  draw  the  line 
somewhere.  Here,  for  in- 
stance, we  come  upon  a  nest 
in  the  fork  of  a  tree  that  is 
lined  with  cherry-pits  and 
buckwheat- shells.  But  I 
will  not  dwell  upon  this  now, 
for  I  shall  have  something 
more  to  say  about  it  in  an- 
other page. 


;\ 


4x  ,     % 

%>- 


V 


NOVEMBER'S 
WILD   FLOWER 


November  241/1 

HAT  is  the  last  wild 
blossom  of  the  year?  If 
we  go  into  the  bare  woods,  we 
may  even  now  bring  home  quite 
a  bouquet  —  asters  of  various  kinds,  golden- 
rods,  creeping  mallows,  daisies,  purple  toad-flax,  yellow 
toad -flax,  centaury,  dandelion,  chickweed,  and  other 
blooms.  But  these  do  not  count  ;  they  are  not  true 
November  flowers,  but  only  straggling  remnants  from 
October's  overflowing  cornucopia.  The  month  of 


NOVEMBER'S  WILD    FLOWER  227 

March  has  its  own  chosen  prophet  in  the  hooded  her- 
mit of  the  bog — the  skunk-cabbage  flower.  What  is 
the  one  floral  emblem  of  November — New  England 
November,  at  least  ?  Before  what  flower  may  we  now 
pause  in  the  woods,  with  this  greeting  from  the  poet : 

"Thou  waitest  late  and  com'st  alone, 
When  woods  are  bare  and  birds  are  flown, 
And  frosts  and  shortening  days  portend 
The  aged  year  is  at  an  end." 

Thus  sang  Bryant  to  his  "  fringed  gentian  "  long  ago ; 
but  I  will  venture  the  assertion  that  the  next  time  he 
went  into  the  bare  autumn  woods  he  had  to  run  the 
gauntlet  of  the  bombardment  from  the  witch-hazel 
guns,  for  it  is  to  the  witch-hazel  blossom  alone  that 
such  sentiments  could  be  addressed  with  any  justice  or 
truth. 

"  The  fringed  gentian  belongs  to  September,"  says 
Burroughs,  commenting  upon  the  above  lapse  of  the 
poet,  "  and  when  the  severer  frosts  keep  away  it  runs 
over  into  October.  But  it  does  not  come  alone,  and 
the  woods  are  not  bare.  The  closed  gentian  comes  at 
the  same  time,  and  the  blue  and  purple  asters  are  in 
all  their  glory.  Golden-rod,  turtle-head  (chelone),  and 
other  fall  flowers  also  abound.  When  the  woods  are 
bare,  which  does  not  occur  in  New  England  till  in  or 
near  November,  the  fringed  gentian  has  long  been 
dead.  It  is,  in  fact,  killed  by  the  first  considerable 
frost.  No ;  if  one  were  to  go  botanizing,  and  take  Bry- 
ant's poem  as  a  guide,  he  would  not  bring  home  any 
fringed  gentians  with  him.  The  only  flower  he  would 
find  would  be  the  witch-hazel."  Burroughs  evidently 
gave  the  cold  shoulder  to  the  remnant  blooms  already 


228 


SHARP    EYES 


mentioned,  his  botanical  quest  referring  only  to  the 
fresh  new  flower  of  the  month,  for  the  fringy  blooms  of 
the  witch-hazel  are  the  only  flowers  that  "wait  and 
come  alone." 

Elsewhere  the  poet  welcomes  the  dandelion   in   his 
late  autumn  flowers,  for  this 

"  first  pledge  of  blithesome  May  " 

is  also  a  pledge  of  October  and 
November  as  well.     All  through 
June  its  cloudy  balls  seemed  to 
float  above  the  grass ;  but  since 
then  how  few  of  us  have  seen  a 
hint  of  the  dandelion!    But  now, 
in   the   cool,  frosty  days   it   has 
taken  a  new  lease  of  life,  and  the 
lawn   and    rowen    fields   are 
again  dotted  with  their  gold- 
en buttons  set  close  within 
their  rosettes. 

It  is  one  of  our  perennial 
bloomers,  and  is  the  only 
solitary  rival  of  our  witch- 
hazel,  for  both  are  frequently 
to  be  found  in  flower  in  Decem- 
ber, while  the  dandelion  occasionally 
continues  in  bloom  through  the  entire  winter,  meeting 
the  skunk-cabbage  in  March  and  the  hepatica  in  April, 
and  thus  completing  the  floral  garland  for  the  entire 
twelvemonth.  During  the  year  1871  I  picked  a  dande- 
lion every  month  in  the  calendar. 

Another  astonishingly  pertinaceous  winter  bloomer  is 
the  chickweed.     Who  can  tell  us  when  this  plant  at  our 


NOVEMBER'S  WILD  FLOWER  229 

feet  first  began  to  bloom?  It  must  indeed  be  a  cold 
day  when 

"the  chickweed's  eye  is  closed." 

You  are  always  sure  of  it.  Even  in  midwinter,  if  you 
know  its  haunt  in  some  sunny  nook,  you  may  dig  away 
the  snow,  and  pick  its  white,  starry  blossoms,  larger  and 
fuller  now  than  those  of  summer.  I  recall  a  beautiful 
episode  from  one  of  my  winter  walks  long  ago,  in  which 
the  lowly  chickweed  won  my  gratitude.  I  was  skirt- 
ing the  borders  of  a  swamp  where  every  hollow  between 
mound  and  tussock  was  roofed  with  thin,  glassy  ice  left 
high  and  dry  by  the  receding  of  the  water  beneath,  and 
had  approached  within  a  few  feet  of  the  remnants  of  an 
old  farm  hot -bed,  which  stood  at  the  foot  of  a  steep 
southern  slope.  Its  foundation  was  rimmed  with  the 
mimic  glass  as  though  in  consolation,  and,  in  further 
sympathy,  at  one  portion  the  clear  crystal  roof  disclosed 
a  lush  growth  of  the  chickweed  beneath,  its  starry 
blossoms  rivalling  the  surrounding  snow  in  whiteness. 
A  mimic  conservatory — no,  not  a mimic,  rather  say  the 
model,  the  "cold-frame"  which  nursed  its  winter  blos- 
soms eons  before  the  modern  infringement  of  the  florist 
was  conceived  of,  or  the  florist  himself  an  entity. 


December  ist 

UR    birds'- nest    hunter   at    this   season 
may  learn    much   of    the    constructive 
arts  of  the  birds.     As  I  showed  in   a 
former  chapter,  the  unravelling  of  these 
abandoned  nests  reveals  a  surprising  va- 
riety of  textiles   and   linings   and   deco- 
rative materials. 
f  ^       «£ "  But   if  we   suppose    that   we   are    the 

only  birds'- nest   hunters   in   the  woods, 
we  are   greatly  mistaken.     We  will  say 
nothing  of  the  owls,  the   cow-bird,  the 
jays,  the   fish-crow,  the  black-snake,  and  the  red  squir- 
rel, which  have  all  had  their  turn  at  the  bird  cradles, 
with  more  or  less  murderous  success.     If  we  continue 
our  search  long  enough,  we   are  certain  to  come  upon 
the  most  novel  nest  of  all — one  which  has  been  found 
before  us,  and  which  has  been  packed  as  full  of  inno- 
cent mischief  as  a  "jack-in-the-box." 


A   WINTER    BIRD'S-NEST 


231 


I  remember  once  in  a  winter  walk  discovering  what  I 
supposed  to  be  an  abandoned  nest  of  the  chipping-spar- 
row  in  a  small  spruce  about  seven  feet  from  the  ground. 
I  reached  for  it,  and  had  barely  touched  it  when  I  felt 
a  commotion  within  its  interior,  and  in  another  instant 
two  black,  beady  eyes  were  staring  down  at  me  over  the 
edge  of  the  nest.  But  only  for  a  moment,  for,  with  a 
squeak  and  a  spring — like  a  gray  streak — to  the  ground, 
the  mysterious  tenant  was  soon  lost  in  the  grass.  I 
carefully  removed  the  nest.  It  proved  to  be,  as  I  had 
supposed,  that  of  the  chipping- sparrow,  but  so  many 
liberties  had  been  taken 
with  it  that  but  for  the 
horse-hair  lining  I  should 
hardly  have  recognized 
it.  A  domed  roof  of 
interwoven  grasses 


and  dried  leaves  had  been 
erected  upon  it,  and  skilfully 
intermeshed  at  the  sides  or 
rim,  a  small  hole  having  been 
left  for  a  door-way.  A  soft 
lining  of  cotton  or  wool  and 
feathers  almost  filled  the  interior. 

I  carefully  replaced  the  snuggery,  and  doubtless  had 
I  thought  to  visit  it  occasionally  during  the  subsequent 
months  a  half-dozen  whiskered,  furry,  bead -eyed  in- 
fants would  have  crowded  at  that  little  door- way  to 
give  me  a  squeaky  reception.  For  I  had  intruded  upon 
the  winter  retreat  of  the  field-mouse,  destined  soon  to 
be  a  well-packed  nursery. 

The  field-mice  are  the  natural  successors  and  heirs  to 
the  bird  domicile,  and  their  evidences  are  to  be  seen  in 
many  a  disintegrating  nest  in  the  woods.  On  several 
occasions  I  have  discovered  the  nests  of  vireos  and  the 
hair-bird  lined  with  a  variety  of  litter  for  which  the 
bird  builders  could  hardly  be  held  responsible — chaff  of 
oats,  Indian -corn  with  the  eyes  cut  out,  buckwheat- 
shells,  and  the  like. 

There  is  no  telling  what  whims  the  vireo  might  not 
take  in  nest  building,  but  when  we  find  the  lining  of  its 


A  WINTER  BIRD'S-NEST  233 

nest  composed  of  cherry -pits  and  hazel-nuts  —  even 
though  the  nest  be  several  feet  above  the  ground,  and 
far  out  upon  a  slender  twig,  as  I  have  found  it  —  we 
must  look  elsewhere  for  our  bird,  especially  when  we 
find  all  the  nuts  to  have  been  emptied  through  small 
round  holes  in  their  sides,  and  the  tiny  grooves  of  sharp 
teeth  marking  the  edges  of  the  shells. 


THE  MOST  MARVELLOUS  DRILL 
IN   THE  WORLD 

December  8th 

HE  season  of  animated  insect  life  is  long  past, 
and  the  "bug-hunter's"  attention  is  now 
mostly  confined  to  the  winter  harvest  of  co- 
coons everywhere  disclosed  among  the  de- 
nuded twigs.  True,  there's  the  black-and-tan 
"woolly  bear"  every  now  and  then  to  be  seen 
crawling  across  the  snow,  the  caddis-nests  in 
the  brook,  the  water-beetles  at  the  edge  of  the 
ice,  and  those  winter  butterflies  and  snow-fleas,  all  of 
which  I  shall  describe  in  a  later  page.  But  there  are 
two  curiosities  more  remarkable  than  any  of  these  yet 
awaiting  us  in  the  woods,  if  our  eyes  are  only  sharp 
enough  to  find  them  ;  one  of  which,  in  certain  respects, 
is  the  most  wonderful  insect  which  any  insect  cabinet 
can  show.  » 

It  is  true  that  we  might  have  looked  for  our  strange 
insect  several  months  ago;  but  then  there  was  so  much 
else  to  choose  from  through  the  summer  months,  and 
we  knew  that  our  secret  would  keep,  and  that  the  winter 
would  show  us  our  prize.  And  here  it  is,  clinging  to 
the  bark  of  a  maple-tree  in  the  woods,  all  ready  and 
waiting  for  its  collector — a  perfect  specimen,  with  legs 
and  wings  firm  and  nicely  spread  and  set,  and,  what  is 
more,  mounted  to  the  bark  with  its  own  pin ! 

A  "big  black  wasp,"  you  think?     Yes,  it  does  look 


like  a  wasp  ;  but  I  can 
readily  imagine  an  or- 
dinary wasp  turning 
green  with  envy  at  a 
sight  of  the  sting  which 
this  specimen  carries  ; 
the  hornet's  dagger 
is  an  insignificant  af- 
fair beside  it. 

Let  us  examine  the 
insect  closely.  It  seems 
to  be  standing  on  tip- 
toe on  the  bark,  with 

. 
wings   upraised  ;    its 

body  is  bent  in  an  up- 
ward arch,  and  seems  en- 
tangled in  a  double-twist- 
ed loop  of  horse-hair.   And 
thereby  hangs  a  tail,  for  it  is 
this   singular  loop    that   has 
won  the  insect  its  well-deserved 
name   as   the    most  wonderful 
borer  on  record. 

If  I  were  to  exhibit  to  the 
reader  a  piece  of  black  horse-hair 
about  five  inches  in  length,  and 
claim  that  it  was  a  wonderful  new 
kind  of  gimlet  which  was  capable 
of  boring  a  hole  four  inches  deep 

into  solid  wood,  would  I  be  taken  seriously?  And  if 
so,  how  astounding  would  seem  the  assertion  !  And 
yet  to  all  appearances  such  is  the  instrument  and  such 
the  actual  feat  accomplished  by  this  black  wasp-like  in- 


\ 


sect  here  upon  the  tree  before  us — the  great  ichneumon- 
fly  (Thalessa  lunator],  which  is  endowed  with  the  most 
marvellous  drilling  instrument  in  the  world — a  dainty 
complex  machine  beside  which  the  most  exquisite  and 
skilful  mechanism  of  man's  appears  insignificant  and 
clumsy. 

Had  we  chanced  this  way  last  summer  we  might  have 
had  a  better  view  of  this  wonderful  drill,  as  our  buzzing 
ichneumon-fly  hovered  about  the  tree-trunk  selecting  a 
place  for  her  operations.  I  have  pictured  her  in  flight 
with  her  slender  borer  displayed.  To  be  correct,  my 
picture  should  show  but  one  hair-like  appendage  instead 
of  three,  but  I  have  separated  the  borer  into  the  three 
divisions  which  appear  in  the  act  of  boring  —  two  of 
them  being  merely  the  sheaths  which  close  about  the 
true  drill — all  appearing  as  one  when  the  insect  is  in 
flight. 


THE    MOST    MARVELLOUS    DRILL    IN    THE    WORLD 


237 


The  variety  of  her  positions  assumed  during  the  bor- 
ing process  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe,  nor  can  I,  in 
a  brief  popular  paper,  enter  upon  the  very  strange  mus- 
cular and  anatomical  action  which  accompanies  the  proc- 
ess. But  I  have  shown  my  ichneumon  as  she  appeared 
after  the  drilling  was  well  under  way;  the  large  disk  at 
the  extremity  of  the  body  being  a  contractile  tissue  dis- 
tended by  the  loop  of  the  drill  within,  and  by  which 
the  pressure  is  communicated  to  the  straight  shaft  be- 
low. By  a  muscular  wriggling  motion,  continued  with 
patience  for  hours  sometimes,  the  horse-hair  gimlet 
has  sunk  three  inches  into  the  wood,  bringing  up  to 
the  surface  a  continual  pouring  of  fine  sawdust. 
The  membranous  disk  has  disappeared  by  gradual 
contraction,  and  the  body  at  length  assumed  the 
position  which  we  now  see  in  our  dead  specimen 
on  the  tree,  with  the  two  loops  of  the  sheath- 
ing parts  separated  and  meeting  around  the 
drill  where  it  enters  the  wood  below,  this 
short  section  of  about  half  an  inch  beneath 
the  tip  of  the  body  being  all  that  is  now 
to  be  seen  of  the  original  four-inch  bore. 
But  this  last  effort  was  evidently  too 
much  for  the  insect.  It  exhausted  her 
strength,  and  she  died  without  being 
able  to  withdraw  the  shaft.  <'  « 

And  what  is  it  all  about  ?     What 
fun  can  there  be  in  such  laborious 
work,  and   in   such   hot  August 
weather  too  ?     The  intention  of 
this  ichneumon  is  no  less  aston- 
ishing   than     her    mechanical 
skill.     She   knows  very   well 


238  SHARP    EYES 

what  she  is  drilling  for.  There  is  a  rival  drill  in  the 
insect  field  which  she  is  evidently  determined  to  ex- 
terminate. I  have  shown  her  in  the  act  of  pouncing 
upon  another  wasp -like  insect  upon  the  tree -trunk. 
These  two  insects  are  linked  in  a  most  strange  fashion 
in  the  divine  plan  of  Nature.  The  second  insect  is  the 
pigeon  Tremex  (Tremex  columba),  a  borer  of  no  mean 
accomplishments,  though  her  drill  is  less  than  an  inch 
in  length.  We  may  see  her  almost  any  day  in  Au- 
gust, sometimes  half  a  dozen  together  working  upon  a 
single  tree.  Sooner  or  later  our  ichneumon  finds  this 
same  tree  and  searches  out  her  enemy;  for  the  Tremex 
has  laid  its  eggs  within  the  tree,  and  its  young  larvae 
are  now  driving  their  tunnels  through  the  wood.  It  is 
these  that  the  ichneumon  is  after.  She  knows  that 
they  are  within,  and  her  drill  is  something  more  than 
a  mere  drill,  for  when  once  in  place  she  lays  an  egg 
through  it,  and  the  little  grub  which  hatches  from  it 
immediately  takes  the  hint  given  by  its  mother.  It 
searches  among  the  burrows  within  the  tree  until  it 
finds  the  Tremex  larva,  upon  which  it  fastens  itself, 
living  upon  it  as  a  parasite,  and  ultimately  destroy- 
ing it.  It  is  an  ichneumon -fly  instead  of  a  Tremex 
which  emerges  from  the  aperture  in  the  tree  bark  next 
summer. 

The  mechanism  of  this  ichneumon  instrument  is  too 
complex  for  adequate  description  here.  It  is  composed 
of  three  long  pieces,  which  are  dovetailed  one  with  an- 
other, and  glide  easily  through  their  entire  length,  the 
boring  being  accomplished  by  the  alternate  gouging 
of  the  chiselled  tips. 

The  entire  diameter  of  this  shaft  is  less  than  the 
smallest  period  on  this  page,  and  though  constructed 


THE   MOST   MARVELLOUS   DRILL    IN    THE    WORLD          239 

of  three  pieces,  there  is  room  to  spare  for  a  soft  chan- 
nel through  its  centre,  by  which  the  egg  is  conducted 
to  the  depths  of  the  burrow. 

I  have  somewhere  read  that  this  particular  boring 
tool  of  the  Thalessa  has  been  infringed  upon  by  a  recent 
human  device,  in  which  the  same  drilling  mechanism 
has  been  employed  without  so  much  as  a  "  thank  you  " 
to  the  ichneumon.  How  many  others  of  the  imple- 
ments and  devices  and  commodities  and  processes  in 
daily  use  by  man — the  fruit,  it  is  claimed,  of  his  "supe- 
rior intelligence,"  all  duly  protected  by  letters-patent — 
have  had  their  first  working  model  in  nature  ages  be- 
fore the  human  era?  Who  is  he  that  assumes  to  be  the 
first  paper-maker,  weaver,  plasterer,  potter,  or  mason? 
The  world  is  overrun  with  impostors  who  would  claim 
the  invention  of  saw,  file,  chisel,  and  gouge ;  of  the  first 
gun,  or  diving-bell,  or  lathe,  to  say  nothing  of  propel- 
lers, water- proof  cement,  log-cabins,  javelins,  scissors, 
and  even — pincers ! 


\ 


WINTER'S   ROSETTES 


December  i^th 

E  are  going  to  have  an  early  spring,"  said 
a  rural  philosopher  to  me  one  late  Feb- 
ruary day,  pointing,  as  proof  of  his  asser- 
tion, to  the  numerous  clusters  of  lush 
green  leaves  disclosed  everywhere  in  his 
garden  upon  the  melting  of  the  snows. 
"  The  weeds  are  starting  already,"  he  says,  pulling  up  a 
close  clump  of  peppergrass  leaves.  And  yonder  is  a 
flat  starry  tuft  of  sorrel  leaves  as  green  as  April  grass, 
and  near  by  a  hundred-pointed  starry  rosette  of  the 
evening  primrose  hugging  the  frozen  ground — all  proofs 
of  an  "early  spring."  Yes,  the  spring  is  in  the  hearts 
of  all  of  them,  and  has  been  abiding  there  for  several 
months.  How  few  of  them  ever  get  the  credit  for 
the  hope  and  faith  of  which  they  are  the  perennial  elo- 
quent symbols !  The  snow  covers  thousands  of  them. 
Not  all  our  evergreens  are  accounted  for  in  our  bot- 


WINTER'S    ROSETTES 


241 


any.  We  find  no  adequate  m.ention  of  these  quiet  res- 
olute rosettes  which  are  everywhere  disclosed  in  spring 
upon  the  melting  of  the  snow,  but  which  might  have 
been  found  as  early  as  the  previous  September.  Many 
a  dried  stalk  or  withered  seed-pod  protruding  above  the 
snow  will  point  the  way  to  them.  This  wiry  spire  of 
the  pretty  moth-mullein  beset  with  its  globular  pods; 
these  brown  catkins  of  the  rib-grass  plantain  ;  this  feath- 
ery sprig  of  peppergrass — we  may  readily  guess  what  a 
pretty  tufted  carpet 
is  that  which  covers 
the  bare  earth  about 
their  feet.  This 
brown  spiny  mock- 
ery of  last  summer's 
thistle  reminds  us  of 
the  most  beautiful  of 
all  these  winter  dec- 
orations, the  sym- 
metrical compound 
star  of  acanthus-like 
leaves,  guarding  the 
root  beneath,  and 
waiting  in  patience 
for  the  first  oppor- 
tunity of  sending  up  its  stalk  of  bloom. 

The  evening  primrose  shows  us  one  of  the  most  per- 
fectly symmetrical  of  all  these  leaf  clusters — a  beautiful 
complex  spiral  star,  geometrical  in  its  arrangement,  and 
a  perfect  pattern  for  the  modeller,  sculptor,  decorator, 
or  wood-carver.  The  willow-herb,  or  fire- weed  (Epilo- 
biui/i),  is  almost  equally  perfect;  and,  indeed,  our  art- 
worker  may  find  a  wide  choice  of  ornamental  types, 


242 


SHARP    EYES 


without  recourse  to  "design" — to  those  accustomed 
liberties  with  leaves  and  blossoms  in  the  "convention- 
alized "  rosettes  so  prevalent  in  decoration. 

To  the  botanist  this  beautiful  sym- 
metry tells  an  interesting  story,  giv- 
ing, as  it  does,  a  key  to  the  entire 
spiral  arrangement  of  the  leaves  in  the 
mature  plant,  the  stem  being  but  a 
prolongation  of  the  axis  upon  which 
the  same  progression  of  the  rosette  is 
repeated.  In  the  evening  primrose, 
for  instance,  we  may  count  nine  leaves 
up.  the  stem  before  we  reach  one  di- 
rectly over  the  first,  or  starting-point.  A  careful  exami- 
nation of  the  rosette  discloses  the  same  arrangement. 
If  we  imagine  the  stem  of  the  plant  to  consist  of  an 
elastic  cord  at  full  tension,  then 
our  rosette  would  represent  the 
resultant  of  its  contraction  to 
the  ground. 

In  the  instances  of  the  moth- 
mullein,  thistle,  and  evening 
primrose,  we  see  typical  bien- 
nials, or  plants  which  spend  one 
year  in  making  a  rosette,  one 
year  to  blossom,  and  die  the 
next.  The  plantain  rosette  is 
perennial,  renewed  from  year  to 
year  from  the  same  root.  The  peppergrass,  with  its 
deeply-cut  leaves  shown  above,  is  classed  as  an  annual 
by  all  botanists,  though  its  millions  of  rosettes  prove  it 
to  be  biennial  as  well,  for  many  of  them  abide  the  winter 
awaiting  the  spring  for  bloom. 


WINTER'S  ROSETTES 


243 


The  examples  which  are  here  pictured  are  not  draw- 
ings, but  are  reproduced  from  actual  photographs  from 
the  plants  themselves,  all  gathered  in  a  few  moments 
from  a  vacant  city  lot  not  five  minutes'  walk  from  my 
Brooklyn  home.  Almost  any  good-sized  spot  of  bare 
earth  will  show  many  other  forms  equally  interesting, 
and  occasionally  so  profuse  as  to  carpet  the  ground. 
The  plantain  and  peppergrass  are  thus  frequently  prev- 
alent. 


T  seems  as  if  the  day  was  not  wholly  profane  in 
which  we  have  given  heed  to  some  natural  ob- 
ject. .  .  .  He  who  knows  the  most,  he  who  knows 
what  sweets  and  virtues  are  in  the  ground,  the 
waters,  the  plants,  the  heavens,  and  how  to  come  at  these 
enchantments,  is  the  rich  and  royal  man. ' ' — EMERSON. 


THE  SNOW 

December  220. 

NLESS  our  almanac  is  a  delusion  and  a 
.  snare,  this  is  the  first  week  of  winter, 
and  we  may  now  confidently  "look  for 
snow."  Perhaps  it  may  have  fallen  dur- 
ing the  night,  covering  the  bare  ground 
for  the  first  time  during  the  winter,  or  perhaps  only 
sifted  lightly  over  the  crust  of  an  earlier  snowfall.  But 
both  boys  and  girls  may  well  put  aside  their  sleds  for  a 
walk  with  me  this  morning.  This  snow  is  good  for 
something  else  than  coasting,  or  even  snowballing. 

Those  who  like  a  good   story-book  will  do  well  to 
study  the  snow,  for  they  may  indeed  read  it  like  a  book. 


248  SHARP    EYES 

It  is  a  great  white  page  storied  with  the  doings  of  the 
little  wild  folk  which  few  of  us  ever  see.  Who  ever 
sees  a  deer-mouse,  or  even  a  common  field-mouse?  The 
summer  meadows  are  full  of  them,  but  we  should  never 
suspect  it,  did  we  not  occasionally  surprise  one  scam- 
pering away  with  a  squeak  before  the  scythe  of  the 
mower,  or  perhaps  jumping  like  a  gray  streak  from  a 
forkful  of  new-made  hay,  or  from  beneath  the  corn- 
shock  as  it  is  raised  to  the  cart. 

Their  doings  down  deep  among  the  summer  grass  no 
one  ever  sees,  but  it  is  not  so  now.  From  the  moment 
their  little  whiskered  noses  peep  from  their  burrows 
their  acts  are  recorded.  They  write  their  autobiography 
day  by  day.  We  can  see  all  the  mischief  they  have 
been  up  to  during  the  night,  and  just  what  company 
they  have  kept. 

Here  is  a  well-worn  track  to  a  pile  of  brush  near  by 
where  the  snow  is  all  cut  up  with  footpints  —  a  fa- 
vorite rendezvous,  evidently ;  doubtless  the  gossip  ex- 
change of  all  the  wild  bead-eyed  folk.  Here  is  a  spot 
among  the  weeds  where  four  little  birds  have  danced  a 
quadrille  or  minuet — balance  corners,  forward  and  back- 
ward, chassez,  and  all  hands  round.  Close  by,  the  snow 
appears  as  if  sewed  with  tiny  stitches,  and  here  we  see 
two  long  jumping  trails  circling  about  a  stump.  How 
alive  they  seem !  telling  plainly  of  a  lively  race  between 
two  mice,  both  tracks  terminating  in  a  hole  beneath  a 
stump.  The  snow  on  the  top  of  the  stump  is  ruffled 
with  the  feet  of  the  furry  populace  who  witnessed  the 
sport,  and  doubtless  cheered  on  their  favorites  in  their 
sprightly  race. 

I  remember  one  winter  catching  sight  of  a  retreating 
tail  whisking  into  a  hole  beneath  a  stump  like  this,  and 


STORIES    IN    THE    SNOW 


249 


I  shall  not  forget  the  eager  pull  with  which  I  dislodged 
a  piece  of  the  rotten  timber,  nor  the  jumping  mouse 
that  sped  out  across  the  drift,  nor  the  pocketful  of  hazel- 
nuts  and  beechnuts  which  foiled  out  upon  the  snow. 
There  were  acorns  and  chestnuts,  too,  and  kernels  of 
corn  with  their  "eyes"  nibbled  out,  and  in  a  cozy  al- 
cove within  I  discovered  a  snug  nest  of  grass  and  cot- 
tony substance  —  the  winter  home  and  larder  of  the 
deer-mouse,  or  white-footed  mouse. 


t: 


HOW   BUNNY   WRITES   HIS   AUTOGRAPH 


December  22d 

HERE  are  few  country  boys  who  do 
not  know  those  footprints  about  the 
box-traps  in  the  woods,  and  all 
through  the  thickets  everywhere — 
four  in  a  set.  Yes ;  we  all  know 
them  ;  they  are  the  unmistakable 
seal  or  signature  of  the  little  gray 
rabbit,  or,  more  properly,  hare.  And  yet  I  have  never 
met  an  individual  who  knew  just  how  bunny  writes  his 
autograph.  Even  though  we  see  him  in  the  act,  he 
writes  it  so  fast  that  we  cannot  follow  him.  It  is  only 
by  examining  it  very  closely  that  we  can  get  at  the 
secret. 

These  footprints  are  always  four  in  a  set ;  the  two 
front  impressions  being  about  six  inches  apart,  and  the 
other  pair  quite  close  together,  or  even  united  occasion- 
ally, or  placed  one  directly  in  front  of  the  other;  the 
direction  of  the  hare's  course  being  plainly  seen  by  the 
prints  of  the  toes.  But  it  will  be  a  surprise  to  most 
people  to  find  on  examination  that  the  widely-separated 
pair  in  front  are  really  made  by  the  hind-  feet  of  the 
animal,  certain  impressions  showing  plainly  the  full  im- 


HOW    BUNNY   WRITES    HIS    AUTOGRAPH 


251 


print  of  the  long  hind  shank  even  to  its  heel,  or  elbow, 
as  this  joint  of  the  leg  is  incorrectly  called. 

Where  the  animal  has  progressed  by  slow,  short  jumps 
— "  when  the  hare  limps  awkward  " — the  marks  of  the 
long  soles  are  frequently  to  be  seen ;  but 
in  the  more  rapid  leaps,  clearing  from  one 
to  two  yards,  only  the  tips  of  the  feet 
have  touched  the  snow. 

The  instantaneous  photo- 
graphs of  Mr.  Muybridge  have 
shown  us  some  very  surprising 
disclosures  in  the  various  posi- 
tions of  the  running  horse  and 
other  animals.  I  should  like  to 
see  a  rabbit  caught  on  the  fly 
in  the  same  way;  I  am  sure 
should  get  some  comical  revelations. 

A  careful  examination  of  his  fourfold 
autograph  indicates  the  method  of  its 
technique.  The  short  fore-paws  are 
planted  near  together,  the  hind-feet  then 
pass  outside  and  some  inches  beyond 


252  SHARP    EYES 

them,  and  then  follows  a  jump  which  may  vary  from 
two  to  ten  feet. 

It  is  quite  possible  that  bunny  may  really  lift  his 
fore -paws  by  a  spring  before  the  hind -legs  overtake 
them,  as  shown  in  my  foreground  hare,  but  I  fancy  that 
the  photograph  may  yet  show  us  some  such  transitory 
attitude  as  we  see  in  the  one  behind  him. 


THE    COCOON    HARVEST 


December  2Qth 


OW  is  the  time  to  lay  up  your 
1    store    of   cocoons,  looking    to 
those  beautiful   moths  of   next 
June;  and  there  are  two  kinds 
at  least  which  will  prove  a  sure 
harvest    for   your   winter   walk. 
For  weeks   they  have   been    most   effectually 
hidden  among  the  foliage,  but  now  the  thickets 
are  full  of  them  in  plain  sight — that  is,  if  your 
eyes  are  sharp  enough  to  find  them.    It  always 
adds  to  the  zest  of  a  walk  at  any  season  to 
have  some   particular  quest   in  view  —  a  rare 
flower  or  bird,  an  Indian  arrow-head,  perhaps. 
And  even  now,  in  midwinter,  when  the  wilds 


254  SHARP    EYES 

are  comparatively  drear,  there  are  few  objects  of  life  more 
certain  to  reward  your  search  than  the  large  cocoons  of 
the  Attacus  Cecropia  and  the  Attacus  Prometheus — two 
among  our  most  beautiful  and  important  moths. 

The  twigs  of  most  thickets  are  now  quite  denuded, 
with  only  what  might  appear  a  stray  determined  leaf 
here  and  there.  Often  this  leaf  is  precisely  what  it  ap- 
pears to  be,  clinging  by  its  stem,  or  perhaps  tangled  in 
a  tiny  spider's  web  which  the  winds  have  as  yet  been 
unable  to  sever.  Here  and  there,  however,  a  cluster  of 
two  or  three  will  be  found  which  have  a  suspicious  look, 
and  a  closer  examination  discloses  that  they  are  but  the 
artful  disguise  of  a  living  secret  within  —  the  Cecropia 
in  its  warm  double  cocoon.  But  there  is  a  great  deal 
of  hocus-pocus,  too,  among  these  deceptive  leaves. 
The  bunch  of  leaves  often  proves  a  delusion.  They 
are  a  continual  challenge  to  the  analytic  eye ;  a  puzzle 
often  only  to  be  settled  by  so  small  a  factor  as  their 
degree  of  firmness  in  the  wind,  a  light,  beckoning  leaf 
seldom  being  worth  answering.  It  is  often  a  matter  of 
no  small  skill  to  tell  at  a  hundred  feet  distance  just 
which  cluster  of  leaves  holds  its  cocoon. 

These  cocoons  vary  considerably  in  size  and  shape ; 
some  being  nearly  five  inches  long  and  very  much  in- 
flated and  bag-like ;  others  pointed  at  each  end  and  be- 
ing more  contracted,  but  always  of  the  toughest  of  silky 
gray  parchment  in  texture.  They  are  secured  to  the 
twigs  by  their  longest  side,  and  are  quite  commonly 
(especially  early  in  the  winter)  attended  by  the  few 
leaves  which  the  caterpillar  originally  drew  together 
while  constructing  its  silken  framework.  Occasionally  a 
specimen  is  found  partially  incased  in  a  leaf,  which  leaves 
a  perfect  mould  of  itself  in  the  silk  upon  removal. 


THE    COCOON    HARVEST 


255 


With  these  another  cocoon  is  commonly  found,  and  it 
is  an  interesting  study  of  insect  sagacity  for  those  who 
are  unfamiliar  with  it.  In  this  case  the  deception  is 
quite  pronounced,  and  doubtless  hundreds  of  the  co- 
coons have  been  passed  by  and  noted  simply  as  dan- 
gling leaves — "  the  last  leaf  upon  the  tree  in  the  spring," 
perhaps.  This  is  the  hammock  of  the  Attacus  Prometheus. 

Unlike  the  Cecropia  caterpillars,  the  Prometheus 
adopts  a  distinct  preconcerted  plan  in  the 
construction  of  its  cocoon,  by  which  it  pro- 
vides a  safe  anchorage  for  the  winter.  A 
suitable  leaf  is  first  selected,  generally  upon 
a  wild  cherry,  sassafras,  spicewood,  or  button- 
bush  ;  the  stem  of  the  leaf  is  then  completely 
incased  in  silk,  and  carefully  secured  to  the 
twig  for  several  inches  by  the  same  means; 
after  which  the  leaf  is  contracted  about  the 
caterpillar,  and  forms  the  mould  for  its  win- 
ter hammock.  The  wind  and  weather  at 
length  loosen  the  withered  leaf,  but  nothing 
short  of  a  vigorous  pull  will  dislodge  the  co- 
coon, which  often  suffers  the  branch  to  break, 
or  calls  the  pocket-knife  into  use  before  it 
will  release  its  hold. 

Among  the  most  pleasant  winter  memo- 
ries of  my  boyhood  was  the  quest  for  these 
cocoons.      Whether    on    foot    through    the 
woods,  or  on   frozen  lake  or   river,  skating 
around  among  the  flaky  ice  of  the  sedgy  border  swamps 
and   coves  among  the  button -bushes  and  alders,  sub- 
merged in  summer,  but  now  revealing  those  empty  nests 
of  the  "conkaree,"  which  so  tantalized  me  a  few  months 
before — here  I  filled  my  pockets  with  a  daily  harvest 


256 


SHARP    EYES 


of  cocoons   that  was  the   envy  of  my  less- 
favored  entomological  companions. 

Nor  has  the  fever  left  me;  even  to-day  I 
cannot  pass  a  cocoon  and  leave  it  alone.  I 
find  my  steps  turning  involuntarily  towards 
every  thicket  I  meet  in  my  winter  walk. 

Only  last  week,  from  one  small  copse  in 
the  suburbs  of  the  city,  I  brought  home  a 
bouquet  of  twigs  bearing  one  hundred  and 
forty   odd    of   the    cocoons    of    these    two 
moths,  mostly  of    the    Cecropia ;  also  one 
small   branch   with    a   dangling   accom- 
paniment of  twenty- three  cocoons  of 
the    beautiful    ailantus    moth,  which, 
added  to  the  stock  gathered  in  pre- 
vious   recent  walks,  ran    the    total 
number    up    to    nearly  four   hun- 
dred. 

What  will  I  do  with  them? 
I  shall  take  the  greatest  pleas- 
ure in  dividing  them  around 
among  my  friends,  to  most  of 
whom  they  will  prove  a  real 
curiosity  and  rarity,  and  who, 
when  June  comes  again,  will 
thank  me  most  earnestly,  as  so 
many  have  done  already,  for 

affording  them  a  glimpse  of  that  wondrous  revelation 
of  the  emerging  moth. 

Gather  the  cocoons,  then,  my  young  friends.  Gather 
all  you  can,  and  distribute  them  among  your  neigh- 
bors. It  is  good  missionary  work.  There  is  a  winged 
sermon  in  every  one  of  them. 


AMONG   THE   WINTER   TWIGS 

January  $th 


HAVE  recommended  the  Cccropia 
and  Prometlicus  cocoons  as  desirable 
quests  for  a  winter  walk.  There 
was  a  double  purpose  in  that  rec- 
ommendation ;  for,  even  though  we  get  no  cocoons, 
we  are  led  into  wild  haunts  where  various  other  in- 
teresting things  are  to  be  seen.  There  is  much  be- 
sides cocoons  to  tempt  our  search  among  the  denuded 
twigs  of  the  woods.  The  fallen  leaves  have  laid  bare 
many  of  the  pranks  of  insect  life  that  are  completely 
concealed  in  the  summer  foliage.  What  a  variety  of 
interesting  galls  are  now  to' be  found  that  had  escaped 
us  when  last  we  walked  this  way  !  There  is  that  bulby- 
stemmed  golden -rod.  We  see  them  on  all  sides  now 
against  the  snow.  It  is  worth  our  while  to  gather  a 
few  of  them  to  keep  till  spring,  when  we  may  witness 
the  little  winged  tenant  emerging  through  a  tiny  hole, 
which  is  even  now  to  be  found  beneath  the  bark  if  our 


eyes  are  sharp  enough  to  find  it, 
for  each  one  of  these  is  the  winter 
home  of  a  tiny  insect  at  present 
in  its  chrysalis  stage. 

I  have  often  been  asked  to  ex- 
plain another  bulbous  excrescence 
which  is  found  upon  the  twigs 
of  apple  and  wild -cherry.  I  have 
introduced  a  picture  of  it  here  in 
my  border- group,  just  above  the 
bulby  golden-rod.  Every  winter- 
walker  should  know  it,  if  only  to 
gather  it  for  destruction,  for  every 
one  of  them  so  plucked  has  saved 
the  tree  or  bush  from  an  unsightly 
caterpillar  web  the  following  year, 
and,  if  in  the  orchard,  from  much 
serious  damage  to  the  growing  fruit 
and  to  the  tree  as  well.  This  curi- 
ous bunch  is  the  work  of  the  small 
brown  apple-tree  moth,  and  consists  of 
hundreds  of  eggs  laid  in  a  broad,  close  gir- 
dle completely  around  the  twig,  and  afterwards  covered 
with  a  brown  water-proof  and  weather-proof  varnish. 


AMONG   THE    WINTER    TWIGS  259 

One  of  the  most  noticeable  freaks  to  be  seen  among 
the  bare  branches  are  those  eccentric  clusters  of  twigs 
in  the  birch  and  sugar-berry  trees ;  all  the  branches  run- 
ning into  brooms,  as  though  getting  ready  for  the  spring 
house-cleaning.  But  this  is  no  natural  expression  of  the 
tree.  It  has  been  bewitched  by  a  tiny  mite,  whose 
broods  live  year  after  year  in  the  crowded  twigs,  and 
are  the  cause  of  the  diseased  growth.  In  early  times 
these  bunches  were  known  as  "witches'  brooms,"  and 
all  sorts  of  weird  stories  were  connected  with  them. 
But  the  true  "witch"  has  since  been  caught  riding  the 
broom ;  and  inasmuch  as  she  is  not  readily  discovered 
without  a  magnifying  glass,  we  need  hardly  worry  much 
about  her. 


THE   GIRDLER  BEETLE 


^ 


January  $th 

we  search  beneath  the  hickory- trees  we 
may  gather  an  interesting  handful  of  twigs. 
The  snow  is  sometimes  strewn  with  short  branch 
tips,  their  ends  appearing  to  have  been  cut  off 
as  with  a  file.  Some  artful  fagot-cutter  has  been 
at  work  here,  surely!  If  we  examine  the  low- 
hanging  branches  of  the  trees,  we  shall  find  bet- 
ter proof  of  his  clever  work,  as  shown  in  the  pictured 
twig.  The  branches  are  seen  to  be  girdled  with  a  deep 
groove,  sunk  through  the  bark  and  deep  into  the  wood. 
Many  of  these  girdles  appear  quite  recent,  the  branch 
beyond  being  full  of  sap,  while  in  others  this  part  of  the 
twig  is  plainly  dead,  and  readily  snaps  when  handled,  a 
strong  wind  being  sufficient  to  strew  the  surrounding 
snow  with  the  lifeless  twigs.  The  works  of  the  myste- 
rious pruner  are  plainly  seen  on  every  side,  but  we  shall 
have  to  go  back  to  the  August  woods  to  solve  the  rid- 
dle of  his  identity.  Here  we  shall  find  the  artful  "  gir- 
dler  "  trimming  the  trees  to  its  fancy,  or,  as  I  should  say, 
to  Jier  fancy;  and  how  many  are  the  misshapen  hickory- 
trees  that  can  be  laid  to  her  effective  industry? 

I  have   pictured   the  pruner  at  its  work ;   and  now 


THE   GIRDLER    BEETLE 


26l 


that  I  have  disclosed  it  in  its  haunt,  and  shown  it  to  be 
a  prosaic  beetle,  I  must  be  true  to  scientific  fact,  and 
that  fact  is  that  this  is  a  mother  beetle,  working  solely 
in  the  interest  of  her  offspring.  It  must  be  admitted 
that  she  takes  a  curious  mode  of  providing  for  her  chil- 
dren ;  but  she  is  doubtless  doing  the  best  she  knows, 
and  the  plan  seems  to  have  worked  very  well,  or  else  we 
would  not  see  her  following  the  hereditary  example  of 
her  long  line  of  foremothers.  This  is  the  way  she  in- 
sures her  posterity.  First  she  finds  a  twig  that  suits 


her  fancy  —  and  her  fancy  is  easily  satisfied.  After 
gnawing  around  on  the  bark  for  a  while,  as  though  to 
find  a  suitable  place  to  begin  operations,  she  at  length 
starts  her  groove,  travelling  round  and  round  the  twig, 
sideways,  sinking  the  girdle  deeper  at  every  turn  until 
satisfactorily  completed.  After  this — sometimes  before, 


262 


SHARP    EYES 


it  is  said  —  she  travels  along  the  branch  tip  beyond, 
and  lays  an  egg  in  the  soft  bark,  beneath  one  or  more 
buds  of  the  twig,  depositing  each  in  a  puncture  well 
beneath  the  surface.  She  now  commends  the  branch 
to  destiny,  and  repeats  the  operation  on  another  twig. 
Briefly  told,  the  sequel  is  as  follows :  the  eggs  soon 
hatch  into  minute  grubs,  which  penetrate  beneath  the 
bark,  and  later  devour  the  wood,  which  is  more  or  less 
alive  with  sap  during  the  first  season.  The  grub  is 
believed  to  live  within  the  twig  nearly  three  years,  re- 
ducing it  at  last  to  a  mere  shell,  from  which  the  per. 
feet  beetle  at  length  emerges. 


•V  '    >^fK^.~.'s 


THE   WELL-NAMED   HORSE- 
CHESTNUT 

January  I2th 

NDER  our  popular  vocabulary  of  plants  we 
find  many  inappropriate  names.  We  have, 
for  instance,  a  herd  of  "  horse  "  growths — 
horse-gentian,  horse-balm,  horse-radish,  horse- 
mint — without  so  much  as  a  trace  of  signifi- 
cance to  recommend  their  christening.  But 
the  horse-chestnut  need  no  longer  be  in- 
cluded among  the  common  herd. 

A  few  years  ago  a  friend  called  my  attention  to  cer- 
tain scars  upon  the  twigs  of  this  tree,  which  he  claimed 
were  the  reason  of  its  christening.  I  had  noticed  the 
scars  repeatedly  without  seeing  any  suggestion  of  the 
"  horseshoe "  which  he  discerned  there ;  and  the  scars 
themselves  were  not  very  different  from  those  on  the 
hickory  and  ailantus,  and  various  other  compound- 
leaved  trees,  which  leave  similar  sunken  marks  upon  the 
twigs  after  the  leaf-stalk  has  fallen.  But  one  winter's 
day,  while  carefully  examining  the  branches  of  the 
horse-chestnut,  mainly  with  a  view  to  its  interesting 


264 


SHARP    EYES 


varnished  buds,  I  was  struck  with  a  remarkable  resem- 
blance to  the  leg,  fetlock,  and  hoof  of  a  horse. 

I  give  herewith  a  careful  and  exact  drawing  of  the 
twig  as  I  have  since  repeatedly  found  it,  and  as  it  may 
be  discovered  by  any  one  who  will  take  a  little  care  in 
the  search.  The  three-cornered  leaf  scars  may  be  seen 
conspicuously  on  the  winter  twigs  in  opposite  pairs, 
particularly  on  the  youngest  wood,  towards  the  budded 
tips.  In  themselves  they  bear  only  the  faintest  suggest- 
ion of  the  foot  or  shoe  of  a  horse,  as  may  be  seen  by 
reference  to  the  isolated  scar  represented  in  the  sketch. 
It  is  only  when  we  find  a  branch  with  an  accidental 
forked  tip  that  the  conditions  give  rise  to  the  mimicry 
I  have  shown.  Each  of  these 
branching  twigs,  naturally 
straight,  has  now  acquired  a 
curve  at  the  fork,  by 
which  they  seek  to 
neutralize  the  vacancy 
caused  by  the  loss  of  the  ter- 
minal shoot.  This  curve  an- 
swers to  the  fetlock  joint  of 
a  horse's  foot;  while  the  dis- 
torted scar,  with  its  row  of 
seven  raised  dots  around  its  edge,  takes  its  place  with 
striking  significance.  If  with  a  sharp  knife  we  now  cut 
off  the  twig,  trimming  the  wood  close  to  the  edge  of 
the  mimic  hoof,  the  resemblance  is  still  further  en- 
hanced, while  the  surface  beneath  discloses  other  mark- 
ings which  seem  almost  patterned  after  the  sole,  or 
"  frog,"  of  a  hoof.  Here  we  have  the  leg,  hoof,  fetlock, 
frog,  seven  nails,  and  all.  It  is  certainly  a  curious 
freak,  and  well  worth  a  hunt  among  the  winter  twigs. 


THE   GROUSE   ON   SNOW-SHOES 


V 


January  izth 

N  a  previous  chapter  I  have  touched 
upon    the    sprightly    record    of    the 
birds  and  mice  upon  the  fresh-fallen 
snow.     I    omitted    to    mention    one 
very   interesting    snow- track    which 
we  may  frequently  meet  with,  lead- 
ing us  over  the  tops  of  snow-drifts 
and  circling  among  the  alders  and 
sedges  of  the  swamps,  where  the  snow  is 
suggestively  littered  with  bud-scales  and 
dirt.     It  is  the  track  of  a  large  bird ;  and 
from  what  we  know  of  the  habits  of  our 
winter  game,  is  plainly  that  of  the  ruffed 
grouse,  or  "  partridge,"  as  he  is  commonly  called. 

But  how  is  this?  This  is  not  the  clean,  trim  imprint 
which  the  bird  makes  in  the  mud  or  wet  sand  of  sum- 
mer.  Here  is  something  worth  looking  into,  surely. 
The  snow  gives  us  the  tracks  of  the  tiniest  mice  with 
perfect  modelling,  tail  mark  and  all ;  yet  while  the  foot 
of  the  grouse  is  slender  and  dainty,  here  we  find  a 
blurred  and  jagged  track,  with  each  toe  apparently  a 
third  of  an  inch  in  width.  It  is  worth  your  while,  my 
city  youth,  to  stop  at  the  market  or  butcher's  shop  on 


266 


SHARP    EYES 


your  way  to  school  this  morning,  and  look  at  the  feet 

of  the  grouse.     Nature  has  not  asked  this  bird  to  walk 

the  snows  for  its  living  without  providing  it  with  proper 

means  of  locomotion.    With  its 

slender  summer   foot   it  would 

sink  in  the  soft  drift  at  every 

step,  while   now  it  walks  with 

perfect    ease    on    the    lightest 

snow,  for  each  foot  is  provided 

with  a  snow-shoe. 

Every  autumn  the  shoe  begins 
to  grow,  a  stiff  fringe  of  horny 
bristles  spreading  around  the 
sole  and   on  both  sides  of 
each  toe,  until,  by  the  time 


THE   GROUSE   ON    SNOW-SHOES 


26; 


the  blizzard  arrives,  the  bird  is  ready  to  walk  on  the 
highest  drifts.  I  have  made  a  drawing  of  the  foot 
with  and  without  its  shoe. 

The  intention  of  this  bristly  growth  is  perfectly  plain, 
for  in  April,  when  the  snows  have  melted,  you  may  look 
in  vain  for  the  snow-shoe ;  the  grouse  has  kicked  it  off 
as  a  thing  that  has  served  its  purpose.  And  yet,  unless 
I  am  much  mistaken,  you  will  find  no  mention  of  this 
singular  fact  in  any  of  our  natural  histories.  The  curi- 
ous pectinated  (comb-toothed)  feet  of  the  grouse  are 
noted  as  a  special  feature  of  this  family  of 
birds,  but  the  peculiar  annual  growth  and  ad- 
aptation are,  I  believe,  not  generally  known. 
The  difference  between  the  summer  and  win- 
ter tracks  first  drew  my  attention 
and  awakened  my  suspicion,  but 
that  observant  naturalist,  Mr.  Er- 
nest Thompson,  was  the  first  to  re- 
cord the  snow-shoe  of  the  grouse. 

This  accommodating  foot  is  com- 
mon to  all  the  grouse  family,  and 
the  prairie-hen  is  even  more  generously 
equipped  in  winter  than  the  ruffed  grouse. 
The  latter  bird  uses  his  broad  foot  for  bur- 
rowing, and  the  winter  walker,  after  a  fresh 
snow-fall  or  during  a  very  cold  stress  of  weather,  may 
often  find  their  snow  tunnels  running  for  several  feet 
beneath  the  drifts. 

I  once  knew  a  boy  who  surprised  a  grouse  in  the  act 
of  excavating  one  of  these  burrows ;  but  the  bird,  in 
spite  of  the  most  extreme  caution  on  the  boy's  part, 
left  nothing  but  its  tail  in  his  hand  to  show  for  his 
adventure  when  he  reached  home. 


THE  "FAIRY   RING" 
AND   THE   FAIRY 

January  I2th 

HE  rabbits,  mice,  and  birds  all  leave  their 
own  peculiar  and  unmistakable  autographs 
— their  "hands  and  seals"- — in  the  snow, 
but  they  are  not  responsible  for  all  the  sin- 
gular hieroglyphics  to  be  seen  on  this  great 
white  page.  The  wind  often  takes  a  hand, 
and  after  a  light,  fresh  snow-fall  plays  pretty 
pranks  with  the  drooping  stems  of  some  of  the 
withered  grasses;  a  single  grass -blade  under 
the  influence  of  varying  playful  breezes  tracing 
a  puzzling  variety  of  inscriptions. 
Various  degrees  of  proficiency  are  exhibited  by  these 
queer  writings;  some  being  clusters  of  eccentric  touch- 
es, cutting  the  snow  in  odd  lines,  like  stenographic 
notes,  as  it  were,  made  by  our  artist  on  the  spot,  as 
though  quickly  jotting  down  some  racy  incident  of  furry 
life  which  was  passing  at  the  moment.  I  have  seen 
these  queer  inscriptions  on  the  fresh-fallen  snow  when  I 
was  utterly  at  a  loss  to  explain  their  origin,  until  the 
thought  of  the  wind  suggested  a  clew,  and  by  bending 
down  the  tip  of  a  long  neighboring  grass- blade  I  was 
enabled  to  add  to  the  written  score  so  perfectly  that  I 
doubt  if  either  old  Boreas  or  gentle  zephyr,  whichever 
may  have  been  the  writing-master,  would  have  been 


THE  "  FAIRY    RING  "  AND   THE    FAIRY 

able  to  tell  where  he  left  off  and  I  began. 
Here  and  there  we  see  a  beautiful  bow  sharply 
drawn  in  the  snow,  a  perfect  arc  or  section  of 
a  circle,  the  work  of  this  wiry  sedge  blade  when 
the  wind  guided  its  hand.  If  we  care  to  con- 
tinue the  search,  we  may  find  an  arc  extended 
to  a  semicircle,  a  spiral,  or  even  to  a  complete 
ring,  almost  as  true  as  if  struck  with  a  com- 
pass, and  with  the  telltale  drooping  or  broken 
grass-blade  still  at  work  with  every  stir  of  the 
breeze.  "  Fairy  rings,"  the  children  used  to 
call  them.  I  have  pictured  both  the  ring  and 
the  fairy. 


,  ;&£*«/ 


THE   THAW   BUTTERFLIES 


January  igth 

HE  "January  thaw"  does  not  always  arrive  on 
schedule  time.  It  may  come  in  late  December, 
or  not  until  February.  Even  though  there  are  no 
icicles  to  melt  and  drip  at  the  eaves,  and  no  snow  to 
slide  in  mimic  avalanche  from  the  steaming  roofs,  we 
may  know  of  the  thaw's  impending  arrival  by  the 
appearance  of  its  butterfly  heralds. 
^J|)  Nor  is  it  necessary  that  the  thaw 

«£[.      should  be  a  general  condition  of 
the    weather.      I    have    known    a 
sunny,  sheltered  nook  on  the  south 
side  of  the  barn  to  have  a  little  thaw  all  by  itself. 

The  poet  sings  pathetically  of  the  fate  of  the  butter- 
fly on  the  approach  of  winter : 


"Dying  when  fair  things  are  fading  away;" 

and  in  the  general  truth  he  is  correct.  But  did  he  know 
that  we  have  a  whole  brood  of  butterflies  for  which  the 
cold  has  no  terrors,  and  which  always  tide  over  the  win- 
ter to  enjoy  the  "fair  things"  of  another  spring?  The 
well-known  "yellow  edge,"  or  Antiopa  butterfly,  else- 
where alluded  to  in  these  pages,  is  of  this  hardy  tribe, 
and  perhaps  the  best  known  among  them. 


THE   THAW    BUTTERFLIES 


271 


Then  there  are  the  "Comma,"  the  "Semicolon,"  and 
the  Atlanta,  or  the  Red  Admiral,  so  familiar  to  all  our 
young  butterfly  collectors — all  members  of  the  same 
sturdy  group  known  as  the  "  angle-wings."  As  late  as 
the  middle  of  October,  when  most  caterpillars,  like  the 
Cecropia  and  Prometheus,  have  tucked  themselves  away 
in  their  snug  silken  winter- quarters,  you  may  still  find 
the  last  caterpillar  broods  of  these  butterflies  either 
transformed  to  chrysalids,  or  feeding  upon  their  various 
food  plants.  But  their  gilded  chrysalids  are  rarely  con- 
tent so  to  remain  for  more  than  two  weeks,  the  severe 
frosts  of  late  October  only  seeming  to  hasten  their  ea- 
gerness to  be  on  the  wing.  It  is  true  there  is  little  \ 
invitation  in  the  way  of  blossoms  for  honey-sippers 
now;  but  the  cider-presses  are  running,  and  the  whole 
family  of  angle-wings,  it  must  be  confessed,  would 
disdain  acres  of  bloom  for  one  good  sip  of  apple- 
jack. Go  to  the  pomace  heap  at  the 
cider-press,  and  you  may  pick  them  up 
in  your  fingers  perfectly  passive  in  con- 
tentment. In  the  orchard,  the  brown, 
frozen  apples  offer  a  similar  bait ;  and  in 
the  wood-pile  the  fermented  juice  of  the  ex- 
uding sap  from  the  freshly-cut  logs  tempts 
the  same  appetite — a  "nightcap,"  possibly — 
the  necessity  for  which  is  foreseen  by  the 
butterfly  in  view  of  that  long,  cold  sleep 
which  it  has  chosen  to  take  in  its  winged 
state  rather  than  in  the  chrysalis,  which  is 
the  choice  of  most  of  its  kind. 

When  the  biting  chill  of  November  ush- 
ers in  the  winter,  you  will  look  in  vain  for 
your  angle-wings ;  that  is,  unless  you  look 


in  the  right  place. 
Even  then  it  is  ten 
to  one  that  you  will 
not  find  them;  for, 
though  your  eyes 
may  be  resting  upon 
them,  you  will  hard- 
ly recognize  those 
faded  brown  or  gray 
scaly  chips  as  the 
bright  sylphs  of  the 
autumn  sunshine.  Their  wings  are 
folded  on  their  backs,  concealing  the 
color,  and  the  dull  surface  now  ex- 
posed is  in  such  perfect  harmony  with  their  present 
dingy  surroundings  as  to  conceal  all  suggestion  of  their 
animate  existence.  Where,  then,  shall  we  look  for 
them  ?  A  butterfly  hunt  in  midwinter  !  Hundreds  of 
the  Antiopa  have  been  found  hanging  in  a  single  crevice 
between  the  boards  of  a  shed,  falling  to  the  earth  like 
bark  scales  when  dislodged.  They  are  found  beneath 
loose  clapboards  and  shingles,  and  the  crannies  in  the 
hay- barracks  beneath  the  conical  roof  are  a  favorite 
haunt  for  their  hibernation.  I  have  seen  a  small  brood 
of  them  sunning  themselves  around  an  opening  in  such 
a  barrack-mow;  and  once,  in  tearing  away  a  slab  of  bark 
from  an  old  stump,  two  or  three  of  this  same  "yellow 


THE   THAW    BUTTERFLIES 


273 


edge  "  tribe  fell  out  upon  the  snow,  like  so  many  inan- 
imate scales  of  bark. 

Any  one  of  these  angle-wing  butterflies  may  be  kept 
in  domestication  through  the  winter  months,  becoming 
very  tame  and  familiar,  and  forming  a  pretty  feature  of 
the  conservatory,  or  even  the  window-garden. 


THE   FLUTTER 
FROM  THE   TULIP-TREE 

January  26th 

A.LKING  through  the  woods  on  our  way 
home  we  observe  the  snow  here  and 
there  sprinkled  with  brown  paddle- 
shaped  objects  about  an  inch  and  a  half 
in  length,  which  at  first  glance  appear  to 
be  the  seeds  of  the  ash  previously  described.  But  upon 
examination  we  see  that  they  are  of  an  entirely  new 
model,  having  a  heavy  and  blunt  curved  extremity. 

One  of  them  is  to  be  seen  in  my  windrow  of  seeds 
on  page  282.  To  one  familiar  with  the  woods  these 
paddle  seeds  offer  a  temptation  not  to  be  withstood. 
Somewhere  near  by  we  may  confidently  look  for  the 
lofty  tulip-tree,  where  the  remnant  seed-broods  are  still 
nestling  by  the  thousands  in  their  mimic  cup  or  cone- 
shaped  clusters  at  the  tips  of  the  branches,  each  bringing 


THE    FLUTTER    FROM    THE   TULIP-TREE 


275 


to  mind  the  orange-spotted  yellow  magnolia-tulips  of 
last  July.  One  glimpse  of  them  is  enough  for  me — a 
challenge  which  I  never  permit  to  pass  unhonored.  The 
nearest  club  or  stick  or  stone  is  soon  flying  up  among 
the  branch-tips,  and  what  a  mazy,  whirling,  dizzy,  dan- 
cing response  is  mine  in  the  flying  cloud  which  follows! 


SNOW-QUAKES   AND   THE  SNOW-QUAKER 

January  26th 

^E  of  the  most  welcome  occasional  companions 
of  the  winter  walker  is  the  gray  squirrel.  On 
almost  any  genial  day  we  are  sure  of  him  if 
our  eyes  are  sharp  enough,  and  our  manners 
sufficiently  decorous.  His  eccentric  doings  are  written 
in  his  footprints  everywhere  upon  the  new-fallen  snow, 
connecting  tree  with  tree,  and  keeping  one's  eyes  ever 
on  the  lookout  for  the  whisking  tail. 

At  our  approach  he  has  leaped  upon  a  convenient 
trunk,  and  suspended  himself  head  downward,  unwink- 
ing and  motionless,  with  brush  laid  flat  against  the 
bark.  But  not  for  long.  If  we  wait  with  sufficient  pa- 
tience, the  nervous  loop  of  that  tell-tail  will  soon  show 
us  his  whereabouts,  and  in  a  moment  more  we  see  him 
bounding  with  graceful  curves  across  the  snow,  every 
subtle  motion  of  his  beautiful  body  accentuated  as  nev- 
er before,  in  its  contrast  against  the  white  carpet. 

His  summer  companion,  the  chickaree,  or  red  squir- 
rel, is  still  curled  up  in  its  semi-hibernating  sleep,  or 
perhaps  has  taken  a  peep  at  the  white  world  without 
from  its  hole  in  the  tree,  or  a  nibble  from  its  convenient 
frozen  apple  or  nut  in  the  crotch  above.  But  we  rarely 


\  •" 
,   ,  1  • 


see  him  in  those  winter 
days  when  the  gray  spe- 
cies is  quite  generally 
abroad. 

We  can  hardly  suppose 
that  our  gray  rover  is  out 
freezing  his  toes  merely 
for  enjoyment.  If  we 
observe  his  doings  close- 
ly, we  may  soon  discover 
that  a  more  urgent  mis- 
sion animates  his  being. 


*^>^>v 


2/8  SHARP    EYES 

The  red  squirrel,  aloft  in  his  den,  sets  an  example  of 
providence  which  his  bigger  gray  neighbor  has  persist- 
ently ignored.  Every  day  last  autumn  he  might  have 
been  seen  packing  away  his  provender  of  nuts,  apples, 
etc.,  into  secret  chinks  and  crannies  high  above  ground 
against  the  coming  snow-bound  days.  The  gray  squirrel 
has  doubtless  had  the  benefit  of  much  of  his  wisdom, 
but  it  is  doubtful  whether  he  has  taken  his  hint  even  to 
the  extent  of  a  hazel-nut.  These  winter  outings,  there- 
fore, are  not  primarily  for  pleasure,  but  for  dire  neces- 
sity. Let  us  observe  our  squirrel  carefully.  There  he 
goes  in  graceful  bounds  across  the  snow,  his  sensitive 
plumy  tail  in  every  movement  expressive  of  its  homage 
to  the  line  of  beauty.  Now  he  pauses  and  seems  to 
scent  the  snow-flakes,  and  in  a  moment  more,  evidently 
satisfied  with  his  bearings,  he  begins  to  burrow  like  a 
woodchuck,  and  is  soon  lost  to  sight.  Now  he  reap- 
pears at  the  mouth  of  the  burrow  with  a  pine-cone  in 
his  teeth,  and  in  the  tree-top  near  by  he  quickly  extracts 
its  seeds  while  the  cone  scales  litter  the  snow  beneath. 

"Wonderful  sagacity  this!  How  did  he  spot  that 
cone  so  accurately  through  six  inches  or  a  foot  of 
snow?"  So  exclaims  the  ordinary  observer.  So  ex- 
claimed the  present  writer  on  more  than  one  occasion, 
until  at  last  the  true  significance  of  the  episode  was 
revealed. 

My  squirrel  on  this  occasion,  which  I  can  hardly  con- 
sider exceptional,  had  already  brought  one  cone  from 
the  hole  and  devoured  its  seeds.  He  then  descended 
from  his  tree,  and  procured  another.  But  did  he  dis- 
cover it  through  the  snow,  and  dig  as  above  described? 
Not  at  all.  He  entered  the  burrow,  and  soon  appeared 
with  his  second  cone.  Were  there  then  two  cones  at 


SNOW-QUAKES   AND   THE   SNOW-QUAKER  2/Q 

this  one  spot  ?  I  queried ;  and  those  suggestive  scales 
yonder,  from  perhaps  a  dozen  cones,  which  strewed  the 
snow,  had  these,  too,  all  chanced  to  fall  at  this  partic- 
ular place  beneath  the  snow  ?  Drawing  closer  to  the 
scene  of  action,  the  mystery  of  this  "  wonderful  saga- 
city" was  solved,  the  opening  of  the  burrow  being  but 
a  convenient  door-way  to  a  system  of  snow  burrows 
extending  for  several  feet  on  all  sides,  the  crust  up- 
heaved and  cracked  here  and  there  in  broken  mounds, 
each  of  which  probably  marked  the  scene  of  discovery 
and  struggle  with  a  cone. 

Whatever  may  be  said  of  the  comparative  provident 
sagacity  of  the  red  and  the  gray  squirrels,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  the  snow-quaker  fairly  earns  his  Christ- 
mas dinner. 


WINTER  GRIST   FOR  THE  BIRDS 

February  2d 


L    *v 


WEED  has  been  described  by  Emerson 
as  "  a  plant  whose  virtues  have  not  been 
discovered,"  and  it  must  be  confessed  that 
many  of  them  fail  to  show  any  good  reason  for 
|^  their  existence   until  the  secret   is   disclosed  in 

\£       their   dried    and    brown    skeletons   against    the 
.A  ,        snow.    There  is  the  pretty  ragweed,  for  instance 
,*        (Ambrosia),  figured  on  page  44.    Who  has  ever 
said  anything  good  of  it?     Its  copious  pollen  is 
accused  of  being  the  provoking  cause  of  hay-fever.    Even 
Burroughs,  who  certainly  might  have  been  expected  to 
discover  some  redeeming  trait  in  the  weed,  only  heaps 
ignominy  upon  it.    "Ambrosia,  '  food  for  the  gods,'  "  he 
says.     "  It  must  be  the  food  of  the  gods  if  of  anything, 
for,  as  far  as  I  have  observed,  nothing  terrestrial  eats  it, 
not  even  a  billy-goat." 

It  is  certainly  delightful  food  for   the  eye,  with   its 
finely-cut,  graceful  summer  foliage  and   long  tapering 


spires  of  greenish  bloom  ;  but  it  is  in  the  dried  and  leaf- 
less winter  stalks  of  this  and  a  number  of  other  weeds 
that  we  find  the  best  reason  for  their  being.  What 
could  the  birds  tell  us?  How  would  the  winter  bunt- 
ings, sparrows,  finches,  and  snow-birds  bridge  over  the 
snow-bound  days  were  it  not  for  this  garner  of  seeds 
which  the  weeds  hold  above  the  snow  ? 

Generally  speaking,  the  seeds  of  a  plant  are  supposed 
to  be  released  upon  maturity.  We  all  know  how  speed- 
ily the  wind  takes  care  of  the  dandelion  and  thistle 
seeds  when  the  plant  has  completed  their  education. 


Autumn  scatters  showers 
of  seeds  of  all  kinds  with 
every   breeze ;    but    the 
meadows  are  full  of  know- 
ing weeds  that   refuse   to  give 
up  their  grist ;  and  though  a  few 
grains  are  occasionally  wrenched 
from  them,  they  still  hold  a  gen- 
erous share  for  the  white  days 
when  the  hungry  winter  birds 
will  surely  need  them. 

It  is  very  interesting  to  go 
through  a  sloping  or  undulating 
meadow  after  a  snowfall,  and  es- 
pecially after  a  snowfall  that  has 
been  followed  by  a  wind.  The 
snow  is  peppered  with  meadow- 
crumbs  dislodged  by  the  gale. 
If  by  chance  there  should 
be  a  glassy  crust  on  the 
snow,  we  may  sample  al- 
most the  entire  grist  of 
the  meadow,  swept  up 
into  windrows  and  gath- 
ered into  bins  and  pock- 
ets. All  the  little  hollows 
and  gullies  and  chinks 
and  crannies  of  the  un- 
even snow  are  full  of  the  crumbs.  And 
what  queer  crumbs  they  are,  too!  Here 
is  a  little  wavy  line,  looking  like  brown 
chaffy  powder  or  fine  sawdust,  with  occasional  larger 
grains  intermixed.  It  follows  along  for  quite  a  distance 


WINTER   GRIST    FOR    THE    BIRDS  283 

on  the  snow  at  the  foot  of  the  steep,  white,  weedy  slope. 
It  is  well  worth  our  while  to  study  it  closely.  Each 
handful  of  the  powder  swept  up  at  random  will  have  a 
surprise  in  store  for  us.  Darwin  it  was,  I  believe,  who 
coaxed  quite  a  number  of  foreign  plants  from  the  dirt 
scraped  from  the  foot  of  a  migrating  wild- 
duck.  What  a  garden  might  we  not  get 
next  year  from  a  pinch  of  this  meadow 
snuff,  or  from  a  ball  of  mud  rolled  in  it  for 
only  a  moment !  Not  a  foreign  garden,  it 
is  true,  but  perhaps  a  beautiful  one,  never- 
theless. 

Let  us  see  what  we  might  expect,  for  we 
can  tell  pretty  nearly  what  it  would  be, 
though  we  may  be  sure  that  it  would  in- 
clude a  fair  number  of  plants  which  only  the 
birds  care  anything  about.  I  have  shown 
a  few  of  these  crumbs  which  the  windrow 
would  give  us  —  some  of  them  only  occa- 
sionally, and  others  in  great  quantity.  I  am 
sure  that  few  of  my  younger  readers 
will  remember  ever  having  seen  such 
queer-looking  things  on  the  snow  or 
anywhere  else,  but  I  can  assure  them 
that  these  are  but  a  few  of  the  pre- 
cious packages  which  may  be  found 
in  the  winter  fields,  and  each  one  of 
them  is  as  good  as  a  whole  plant  to 
the  eye  of  a  botanist.  There  is  no 
mistaking  where  they  come  from. 

Let  us  turn  our  powerful  magnify  ing-glass  upon  each 
in  turn  as  it  may  be  necessary.  Here  is  No.  I,  a  turtle- 
shaped  seed  beset  with  bristles.  This  is  from  the  wild 


284  SHARP    EYES 

carrot,  that  manages  to  hold  a  generous  remnant  of 
seeds  in  its  withered  nest  all  winter.  No.  2  needs  no 
magnifying- glass,  being  a  large  hairy  burr,  nearly  the 
size  of  a  hazel-nut,  and  armed  with  cruel  thorns,  a  seed 
of  the  hedgehog  grass,  and  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  han- 
dle. No.  3  we  all  recognize  as  the  same  two-pronged 
"beggar-tick"  that  is  so  fond  of  our  clothes  in  the  late 
summer.  No.  4  is  the  urn-shaped  kernel  of  the  ragweed. 
No.  5,  the  large  samara  of  the  elm,  though  you  will  find 
few  of  them  in  the  winter.  No.  6,  a  pine  seed.  No.  7, 
a  buttercup  seed.  No.  8,  with  its  rough  conical  body 
and  fine-toothed  crown,  is  the  pretty  seed  of  the  sneeze- 
weed,  which  certainly  deserves  a  place  among  our  mead- 
ow snuff.  No.  9  has  come  from  a  sedge.  No.  10  was 
blown  from  the  ash -tree,  perhaps  half  a  mile  away. 
No.  1 1  will  be  remembered  as  another  of  those  friendly 
"beggar-ticks."  No.  12  was  once  in  the  centre  of  a 
may- weed  blossom.  No.  13  is  one  of  that  fluttering 
swarm  from  the  seed  cone  of  the  tulip-tree.  In  No.  14 
we  have  the  dainty  packet  which  holds  the  seed  treas- 
ure of  the  pig-weed.  The  tooth-crowned  fruit  of  cich- 
ory  is  shown  at  15;  a  wingless  milk-weed  seed  at  16; 
that  of  the  smart-weed  at  17.  And  we  leave  the  read- 
er to  guess  at  the  long  line  of  other  representatives 
from  grasses  and  sedges  and  other  sources ;  and,  like 
my  little  flock  of  birds,  to  take  his  pick  among  them. 


CURIOUS  SPECKS  ON 
THE  SNOW 


Mv 

f 


February  gth 

INTER  weeds  and  their  wind-blown  grist 
for  the  hungry  birds  are  responsible  for 
many  curious  specks  on  the  snow,  as  we 
observed    last  week,  but  there  are  two 
forms  of  peppered  snow  which  the  win- 
ter walker  occasionally  meets  with,  and 
which    have    plainly  no   connection  with  weed   or 
copse,  for  they  are   found  on  the  lawn,  or  in  the 
•open  meadow,  or  in  the  woods  where  no  weeds  are 
seen  above  the  snow,  and  occasionally  in  such  quan- 
tities as  to  cause  some  wonder  about  their  source. 
>     There  are  those  queer  tiny  mimic  birds,  for  in- 


286  SHARP    EYES 

stance.  Go  where  you  will  in  the  snowy  woods,  espe- 
cially after  a  wind,  and  their  flocks  would  seem  to  fol- 
low you,  though  without  the  snow  to  serve  as  their 
background  no  one  ever  sees  them. 

In  an  open  winter  their  existence  would  never  be 
suspected ;  but  now  we  see  their  myriad  flocks  soaring 
over  the  drifts,  with  their  tiny  wings  fully  spread  and 
tail  expanded  like  diminutive  hawks,  floating  above  the 
white  field. 

I  have  said  that  they  are  everywhere  to  be  seen,  and 
this  is  really  quite  among  the  possibilities,  for  the  wind 
is  a  most  thorough  sower ;  but  it  must  be  confessed 
that  when  we  find  the  snow  literally  peppered  with 
them,  we  may  know  that  there  is  a  birch-tree  close  by, 
for  the  birches  are  responsible  for  this  winged  brood. 
More  than  once  have  I  been  asked  to  identify  this  tiny 
mimic  bird  by  those  who  need  only  have  reached  the 
drooping  branch  of  the  birch  in  the  woods  to  have  put 
a  million  of  them  to  flight  towards  the  snow.  So  con- 
stant and  pronounced  a  feature  of  the  winter  are  they 
that  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  think  of  the  snowy  woods 
without  recalling  them,  and  I  do  so  now  to  satisfy  what 
I  know  must  have  been  a  frequent  wonder  on  the  part 
of  many  a  winter  walker  who  shall  chance  to  read  this 
page,  and  also  to  direct  attention  to  those  curious  pen- 
dent nests  where  they  have  been  so  snugly  brooded  all 
these  months. 

The  white-birch-trees  during  the  winter  season  are 
seen  to  be  hanging  full  of  catkins.  These  are  of  two 
kinds,  the  more  numerous  of  them  being  quite  large  and 
full,  the  others  confined  in  groups  of  two  or  three  at 
the  branch  tips.  The  latter  are  the  true  catkins — winter 
parcels  done  up  ready  for  the  coming  spring.  April  will 


see  them  all  shaken  out  into 
dangling  tassels  of  blossoms 
several  inches  in  length.  But 


\  •>•  • 


the  other  dark  brown  cones 
have  already  seen  their  catkin 
days.  They  were  blossoms 
last  spring.  But  they  are 
now  firm  and  rigid  and  reso-  ,  • 

lute  on  their  stalks,  their  only 

thought  being  to  spread  the  white  counterpane  with 
manna  for  the  birds,  and  to  fill  the  woods  full  of  birch- 
trees  ;  for  each  one  of  these  fruiting  catkins  contains 
certainly  a  thousand  seeds  packed  away  with  wonderful 
art,  and  here  is  where  we  find  the  mimic  birds,  each 
with  its  brood  of  two  or  three  of  the  light-brown  seeds 
beneath  its  wings. 

This  innocent-appearing  catkin  is  well  worth  our  care- 
ful examination.  I  never  go  into  the  woods 
in  winter  without  stopping  to  admire  its  little 
hocus-pocus,  for  it  is  a  pretty  piece  of  jugglery. 
How  firm  and  compact  it  seems  as  it  hangs 
upon  its  stem !  But  it  is  laughing  at  our  sim- 


' 


288 


SHARP    EYES 


plicity.  Only  as  much  as  shake  the  twig,  or,  what  is 
better,  give  the  cone  a  pinch  at  its  tip,  and  see  how 
quickly  it  takes  the  hint  to  be  off.  Firm  and  compact 
indeed!  In  the  continuous  disintegrating  shower  that 
follows,  and  which  leaves  nothing  but  a  short,  stiff  stem, 
we  may  well  wonder  at  the  trick  that  has  so  long  kept 
the  cone  together. 

The  secret  has  been  held  by  the  sentinel  at  the  tip 
of  the  cone.  When  he  once  opens  the  door  the  entire 
troop  takes  flight. 

On  examination  it  will  be 
seen  that  these  birdlike 
scales  and  light-brown,  filmy 
seeds  have  been  arranged  in 
circles  and  tiers  around  a  cen- 
tral stem  or  core  to  which 
they  were  once  joined.  In 
ripening  they  have  become 
free,  and  are  then  held  in 
their  compact  shape  only  by 
contact  and  pressure,  the  whole 
elastic  mass  being  locked  by 
the  hard  scale  at  the  tip.  Let 
this  or  any  other  part  be- 
come dislodged,  the  structure 
crumbles  away. 

And  this  is  how  the  snow 

becomes  peppered  with  the  tiny  birds.  But  these  are 
not  the  seeds ;  these  we  rarely  see,  even  in  winter.  The 
scales  being  the  heavier,  fall  near  the  trees,  while  the 
light,  filmy-winged  seeds  are  blown  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth. 


SNOW-FLEAS 


February  gth 


NE  of  the  strangest  of  all  specks  on 
snow  is  the  snow-flea — ^no  mimic 
flea,  but  an  actual  living  and  very 
lively  midget,  whose  swarms  some- 
times cover  the  snow  in  patches  as 
black  as  ink,  or  convert  large  spaces 
of  its  surface  to  a  dark-gray  color.  Like  my 
hibernating  butterflies,  they,  too,  are  creatures 
of  the  thaw.  Almost  any  bright  and  genial  day 
in  winter  invites  them  to  an  outing.  I  have 
seen  patches  two  feet  in  diameter  moving  like  a 
dark  shadow  across  the  meadow,  and  I  remember  once, 
when  a  boy,  walking  on  the  snow-crust  over  a  field  of 
several  acres  that  was  everywhere  peppered  with  their 
millions.  The  books  tell  us  that  the  insects  live  in  moss 
and  lichens  on  the  rocks  and  bark  of  trees,  from  which 
they  emerge  for  exercise  in  mild  weather.  This  theory 
is  probably  warranted  by  the  facts,  but  it  will  be  no  easy 
task  so  to  convince  many  a  rustic  philosopher  whom  I 
know,  and  to  whom  these  fleas  are  as  much  a  celestial 
shower  as  the  snow  itself.  I  have  talked  with  several 
rural  authorities  on  the  subject,  and  have  obtained  some 
facts  which  may  well  puzzle  the  scientists.  "  It's  all  easy 


290 


SHARP    EYES 


enough  to  say  they  come  from  the  trees  and  rocks,"  says 
Enoch,  "but  thar's  my  five-acre  meddy  yonder,  it's  un- 


der  two  feet  of  snow,  and  they  ain't  a  rock  or  a  tree  on 
it,  ner  in  a  half-mile  on't,  and  yet  it's  all  alive  with  'em. 
I  tell  ye,  them  as  sez  they  come  from  trees  and  rocks 


SNOW-FLEAS  29! 

don't  know  wut  they  are  talkin'  about.     Why,  I've  seen 
'em  cum  down  a-ridin'  on  the  snow-flakes !" 

I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  give  an  accurate  picture  of 
the  mysterious  flea.  Once,  when  a  boy,  I  made  a  draw- 
ing from  one  by  the  aid  of  a  magnifying-glass,  but  it 
was  lost,  and  I  can  only  give  a  suggestion  of  it  from 
memory. 


. 


THE   CURIOUS   BASKET-CARRIERS 

February  i6th 

E  must  not  let  the  winter  pass  with- 

C"  i  \  /  4t;  \  out  gathering  a  few  of  the  cocoons 
I  i  I  {•  /  of  the  basket-carriers,  or  bag-worms. 
There  are  many  kinds  of  cocoons 
to  be  found  in  winter,  and  all  sorts 
of  beautiful  moths  come  out  of  them,  but  there  are 
few  such  queer  specimens  as  this  of  the  bag-worm, 
with  its  array  of  sticks  and  leaves  and  thatch  of  vari- 
ous sorts;  and  you  may  be  sure  it  has  a  surprise  in 
store  for  you  next  spring,  if  you  have  not  yet  learned 
its  secret.  It  is  only  necessary  to  gather  a  dozen  or  so, 
and  place  them  in  a  box  and  await  further  developments. 
I  shall  never  forget  my  first  experience  with  them. 
It  was  one  winter  early  in  my  boyhood.  A  larch-tree 
in  front  of  my  city  home  was  dangling  full  of  the  stick- 


THE   CURIOUS    BASKET-CARRIERS  2Q3 

covered  baskets,  then  seen  by  me  for  the  first  time,  and 
a  rarity  in  these  parts.  I  gathered  a  hundred  or  more, 
and  coveted  all  the  rest  that  hung  beyond  my  reach. 
I  placed  them  in  a  box,  and  no  one  but  myself  knows 
how  I  longed  for  spring  to  come,  in  anticipation  of  that 
wonderful  moth  that  was  to  have  the  place  of  honor  in 
my  collection.  Surely,  I  thought,  something  extraor- 
dinary must  come  from  such  a  very  queer  cocoon  ;  and 
my  suspicions  were  more  than  verified,  for  it  was  in 
truth  a  singular  progeny  that  greeted  me  one  morning 
in  June,  when  I  went  to  take  my  daily  look  at  the  box 
of  cocoons. 

All  over  the  cover  and  sides  of  the  box,  the  mantel- 
piece on  which  it  rested,  the  walls,  and  the  ceiling,  were 
thousands  and  thousands  of  little  parti -colored  specks, 
wriggling  and  turning  all  sorts  of  queer  antics  in  puz- 
zling confusion,  and  hanging  and  squirming  in  webby 
festoons  on  all  sides. 

As  soon  as  my  surprise  was  over  I  began  to  investi- 
gate the  matter  a  little  more  closely.  The  animated 
specks  consisted  of  cases  or  baskets  about  an  eighth  of 
an  inch  in  length,  each  of  which  was  occupied  by  a  lively 
little  tenant,  which,  on  being  pulled  out  of  its  house, 
showed  itself  to  be  a  tiny  black  caterpillar,  with  a  very 
intellectual  head,  this  portion  being  about  one- fourth 
the  size  of  the  entire  creature.  On  opening  the  box,  its 
interior  was  found  to  be  literally  alive  with  the  little 
fellows ;  and  as  I  examined  them  closely,  I  noticed  a 


294 


SHARP    EYES 


marked  difference  in  the  color  of  their  diminutive  cases. 
Some  were  pure  white,  others  were  buff-colored ;  some 
were  bright  blue,  others  variously  tinted  ;  and  one  was 
red,  white,  and  blue.  This  little  individual 
appealed  to  my  patriotic  sentiment,  and  I 
took  him  to  the  window  to  get  a  closer  look 
at  his  domicile.  Until  that  moment  it  had 
not  occurred  to  me  to  examine  the  material 
of  their  tiny  baskets.  I  went  back  to  the 
box.  I  had  previously  noticed  a  mottled 
appearance  in  its  interior,  but  it  had  not  es- 
pecially interested  me.  It  now  became  a 
matter  of  more  significance. 

The   box   was    made    of   common    straw 
board  covered  with  white  paper,  and  at  its 
upper  edge,  inside,  were  attached  two  loose 
pieces  of  blue  paper,  which  formerly  had 
covered  the  articles  packed  within — can- 
dles, I  believe.     The  white  paper  had 
been  worn  through  in  spots  by  the 
myriad  pairs  of  little  teeth,  and  with 
the  bits  of  fibre  thus  obtained,  and 
by  the  aid  of  the  silk  web,  of  which 
the  caterpillars  seemed  to  have  an 
inexhaustible    supply,    a    countless 
number  of  baskets  had  been  made. 
The  mottled  effect  of  the  interior  of 
the   box   was    caused    by  the   yellow 
straw  board   appearing   in    spots   where 
the  covering  paper  had  been  gnawed  away. 
This  yellow  board  had  again  been  utilized  by  several  of 
the  caterpillar  babies,  who   preferred  more  highly  col- 
ored homes,  and  the  blue  paper  was  riddled  with  holes 


THE   CURIOUS    BASKET-CARRIERS  2Q5 

by  the  immense  demand  made  upon  it  for  building-ma- 
terial. Near  by,  on  the  mantel,  was  a  pile  of  books,  in- 
cluding one  old  leather-covered  volume,  from  which  a 
fragment  of  red  blotting-paper  protruded.  Both  the 
leather  and  the  blotter  had  been  largely  utilized  in  the 
baskets,  the  soft  quality  of  the  red  paper  having  made 
it  very  popular  among  the  little  architects,  many  of 
which  occupied  conspicuously  gaudy  apartments.  It 
was  from  this  blotting-paper  that  the  patriotic  speci- 
men above  alluded  to  obtained  the  red  material  which 
surrounded  his  door -way  —  the  white  and  blue  bands 
having  been  built  within  the  box. 

Nor  were  these  all  the  materials  which  the  builders 
had  laid  under  tribute.  A  green  worsted  mat,  a  red 
napkin,  the  black  paper  of  a  passe  partont  frame,  had 
all  furnished  their  share  in  the  motley  acrobatic  pro- 
cession that  moved  about  the  apartment. 

A  repetition  of  this  singular  show  is  within  the  reach 
of  any  one  who  cares  to  witness  it,  and  there  is  no  end 
to  the  experiments  that  may  be  tried  as  to  building-ma- 
terials, for  the  industrious  little  builders  will  make  use 
of  anything  within  their  reach  in  their  haste  to  begin 
house -keeping.  Almost  the  moment  they  crawl  from 
the  cocoon  they  begin  to  erect  their  houses ;  and  when 
we  consider  how  little  experience  they  must  have  had, 
their  skill  and  dexterity  are  indeed  surprising.  Singu- 
larly enough,  like  true  architects,  the  arch  would  seem 
to  have  especial  attractions,  as  a  foundation,  but  further 
than  this  their  methods  are  their  own.  Professor  C.  V. 
Riley,  our  Government  entomologist,  has  carefully  de- 
scribed the  process  which  follows,  and  I  have  taken  the 
liberty  of  copying  his  little  panorama,  which  illustrates 
the  knack  of  the  tiny  builder  and  the  growth  of  its  case, 


296  SHARP    EYES 

for  every  one  of  these  thousands  of  bag-worm  babes 
have  followed  the  same  plans  and  specifications.  The 
tiny  inverted  arch  is  first  built.  When  this  has  reached 
nearly  to  the  height  of  its  body,  the  caterpillar  grasps 
it  with  its  feet  and  turns  a  somersault,  thus  bringing 
the  arch  uppermost.  The  builder  then  carefully  turns 
beneath  it,  and  upon  regaining  its  feet  proceeds  to  add 
to  the  structure  on  the  lower  edges  until  a  complete 
ring  is  formed  around  its  body,  when,  by  adding  tier 
on  tier  of  chips,  the  bag  is  soon  completed.  My  swarm 
above  described,  showed  thousands  of  the  houses  in  all 
these  stages  of  progress. 

But  where  was  my  moth?  I  waited  for  it  in  vain. 
And  no  wonder;  for  upon  dissecting  the  cocoons,  I 
could  find  no  chrysalis  from  which  I  could  expect  a 
moth.  Many  of  the  cocoons  were  entirely  empty,  and 
the  others  contained  only  a  chrysalis  shell  filled  with 
eggs  and  a  peculiar  fuzz.  This  will  be  found  to  be  the 
contents  of  the  cocoons  which  we  may  now  gather  from 
the  trees.  But  there  is  a  moth — not  such  as  we  might 
select  as  the  prize  of  our  collection,  it  is  true — a  small, 
black- bodied,  clear- winged,  buzzing,  bumblebee  affair, 
whose  only  ambition  in  life  would  seem  to  be  to  bump 
its  head  against  everything  in  its  reach.  This  is  the 
male  moth.  It  was  years  before  I  could  ever  find  the 
female,  partly  because  I  had  gathered  the  cocoons  at 
the  wrong  season,  and  partly  because  my  powers  of  ob- 
servation had  not  been  sufficiently  trained.  Lest  other 
youthful  entomologists  may  become  puzzled  like  myself 
over  this  very  singular  insect,  I  may  mention  that  both 
sexes  of  the  moth  are  to  be  found  in  the  cocoons  gath- 
ered in  September.  At  this  time  the  full-grown  cater- 
pillars suspend  their  baskets,  and  are  transformed  into 


THE   CURIOUS    BASKET-CARRIERS 


297 


chrysalides.  The  male  chrysalis  works  its  way  out  at 
the  lower  end  of  the  cocoon,  and  its  shell  falls  out  after 
the  escape  of  the  moth.  The  female  moth  never  leaves 
the  cocoon — she  is  hardly  entitled  to  the  name  of  moth, 
being  both  wingless  and  legless ;  and  after  having  de- 
posited several  hundred  eggs  within  her  pupa  case,  few 
would  recognize  in  the  inconspicuous  remnant  of  her- 
self which  remains  any  likeness  to  an  insect. 

Few  of  our  common 
insects  have  been  such 
a  theme  for  discussion 
and  controversy  among 
naturalists  as  the  bag- 
worm;  and  there  is  much 
of  interest  in  the  life  of 
the  insect  which  it  is  im- 
possible to  touch  upon 
in  this  brief  paper. 

The  basket-carrier  •»  ' 
never  leaves  its  case. 
It  carries   its   house 
about  in  its  travels,  enlarg- 
ing   and    decorating    it   with 
sticks  and  leaves  as  its  whim  di- 
rects, and  always  keeping  it  safe- 
ly moored  to  the  branches.     A 

collection  of  the  cases  from  different  food  trees  makes 
a  singular  exhibition,  for  they  are  thatched  with  locust, 
hemlock,  spruce,  arbor-vitae,  or  long  pine-needles,  ac- 
cording to  the  plant  on  which  each  is  found.  In  the 
South,  we  are  told,  these  basket-carriers  are  looked  upon 
with  much  superstition  by  the  colored  natives,  the  nat- 
ure of  which  is  illustrated  in  the  incident  narrated  by 


298  SHARP    EYES 

Dr.  McCook  of  a  darky  laborer's  refusal  to  burn  a  lot 
of  the  cocoons,  with  which  his  master's  trees  had  been 
infested:  "I  can't  do  it,  sah !  I  done  got  conscience  agin 
it.  Dem's  what  we  call  '  firewood  billies,'  an'  dey  is  nuf- 
fin  mo'  nur  less  dan  human  critters  what's  a-bin  pun- 
ished fer  stealin'  wood  wen  dey  wuz  alive  an'  in  de 
body." 


HOUSE -CARRIERS   UNDER   WATER 

February  2jd 

«AST  week  we  made  the  acquaintance  of 
those  queer  house-carriers  of  the  trees, 
the  bag-worms,  with  their  thatched  and 
ornamented  cocoons  now  firmly  swung 
among  the  winter  twigs.  But  there  is 
another  house-builder  that  few  of  us  ever 
see  in  its  home — the  caddis.  He  lives 
on  the  pebbly  bottom  of  the  stream  or  the  shallows  of 
the  pond.  Even  as  we  stood  upon  the  black  ice  at  the 
edge  of  the  dam,  gathering  our  bag-worms  last  week,  we 
need  only  have  lain  down  upon  the  ice  and  looked  be- 
neath to  have  seen  our  caddis  crawling  upon  the  bot- 
tom, leisurely  lugging  its  stone  cottage  or  log- cabin 
around  with  him.  But  who  would  ever  think  of  going 
"bug-hunting"  in  winter?  This  stream,  locked  fast  and 
muffled  in  ice,  or  bubbling  beneath  the  snow-drift,  its 
overhanging  icy  border  fringe  crowding  close  upon  the 
ripples  in  the  intense  cold,  would  hardly  invite  the  en- 
tomologist as  a  likely  field  for  specimens.  The  city  nat- 
uralist who  happens  to  keep  an  aquarium  knows  with 
what  difficulty  he  can  keep  it  stocked  in  the  winter 
months  if  he  would  depend  alone  upon  the  dealers  in 
aquarium  supplies.  A  few  lizards,  polliwogs,  and  gold- 


300 


SHARP    EYES 


fish  are  almost  their  only  stock  in  trade  at  this  season, 
with  perhaps  a  fine  show  of  green  moss  in  bunches, 
picked  in  the  woods,  which  "looks  pretty"  under  water. 
"  But  I  want  some  plants,  snails,  water-beetles,  and  craw- 
fish," I  said  to  such  a  dealer,  recently.  "Oh,  you  can't 
get  anything  of  that  kind  now,  you  know,"  he  replied. 
"They're  all  dead  or  froze  up.  We'll  have  plenty  of 
'em  in  the  spring." 

Nevertheless,  the  film  of  ice  over  the 
pond   or  stream   need  be  no  barrier  to 
the  winter  naturalist.     The  mud  at  the 
borders  of  the  bank  holds  a  lively  har- 
vest, and  does  not  seem  to 
care  a  snap  for  the  seasons. 
One    good     scoop    with    a 
strong   net   will   sometimes 
bring  up  a  veritable  summer 
haul   of  specimens  —  fish, 
frogs,  water-beetles,  lizards, 
water-boatmen,  dragon   larvae,  and 
occasionally  a  dainty  case  of  the 
caddis,  resembling  one  of  the  group 
which  I  have  here  picked   from 


;/ 


HOUSE-CARRIERS    UNDER    WATER 


301 


yonder  pool  and  laid  upon  the  snow.  I  have  a  number 
of  these  cases  before  me  as  I  write,  and  they  are  really 
beautiful  works  of  insect  art.  As  a  rule,  each  species  of 
caddis  is  true  to  some  particular  whim  in  building  or  in 
the  choice  of  materials  for  its  domicile.  Here  are  two 
individuals  that  seem  to  have  taken  a  hint  from  the 
bag-worm,  and  think  there  is  nothing  to  compare  with 
sticks  and  leaves.  Their  cases  are  about  an  inch  and  a 
half  long.  Another  has  carefully  selected  tubular  pieces 
of  floating  grass  stems  or  straws,  enlarging  the  tube  as 
its  growth  requires  by  slitting  up  the  side  and  fitting  in 


a  strip  of  new  material ;  afterwards,  perhaps,  decorating 
the  exterior  with  a  few  stray  chips  or  pebbles. 

But  the  most  interesting  of  all  are  the  dwellings  of 
the  stone-builders,  actual  mosaic  tubes  of  carefully- 
selected  pebbles,  all  joined  edge  to  edge,  and  neatly 
closed  at  the  rear  opening  by  a  nicely- fitted  pebble 
of  larger  size.  And  one  there  is,  the  glassy  abode  of 
the  smaller  caddis,  a  perfect  marvel  of  mosaic  art.  A 
small,  slightly  curved  tube  about  three-quarters  of  an 
inch  in  length  (shown  directly  above  the  stick  case  in 


302 


SHARP    EYES 


the  illustration),  the  crystal  palace  of  the  most  exquisite 
and  gifted  artist  among  all  the  caddis  fraternity.  The 
tube  is  composed  of  minute,  glassy,  flat  pebbles,  joined 


edge  to  edge  with  the  most  skilful  exactness,  and  is 
often  so  transparent  that  when  wet  the  form  of  the 
dweller  may  be  seen  through  its  wall.  Here  may  the 
human  worker  in  stained-glass  find  his  matchless  model. 
An  artist,  too,  that  accomplishes  his  task  without  resort 
to  metal  frame  or  solder,  the  edges  of  his  glass  being 
joined  by  some  insoluble  cement  of  which  he  holds  the 
secret. 

The  art  of  the  bag-worm  appears  almost  commonplace 


HOUSE-CARRIERS   UNDER   WATER  303 

by  the  side  of  this  rare  product.  With  its  ready  re- 
serve of  silk  it  is  an  easy  matter  for  the  bag-worm  to 
weave  a  mere  pouch,  while  the  further  attachment  of 
the  sticks  and  leaves  is  mere  pastime;  but  what  shall  we 
say  of  the  intelligence  that  gleans  among  the  pebbles 
beneath  the  water,  constructing  a  mosaic  tube  about  its 
body,  even  in  the  current  of  the  stream  ?  This  is  what 
the  caddis  larva  does.  As  in  the  bag- worm,  this  case 
of  the  caddis  serves  as  a  protection  against  its  enemies; 
and  while  the  basket -carriers  in  the  trees  are  keeping 
an  eye  out  for  the  birds,  dodging  into  their  case  and 
literally  "  pulling  the  hole  in  after  them,"  or  drawing 
it  close  against  a  twig,  on  the  approach  of  the  enemy, 
the  caddis  is  continually  on  the  alert  for  hungry  prowl- 
ing fish  that  know  a  tidbit  when  they  see  it.  The 
number  of  empty  shells  to  be  found  in  every  caddis 
pool  would  seem  to  show  that  the  fish  know  all  about 
caddis.  I  was  once  greatly  amused  at  the  sly  arts  of  a 
tiny  rockfish  in  my  aquarium  that  soon  left  nothing  but 
empty  shells  to  show  for  my  caddis  and  my  snails.  His 
plan  of  operation  was  to  steal  up  from  behind  as  the 
unsuspecting  victim  was  regaling  itself  in  the  water,  and 
with  a  sudden  dash  grasp  the  head  of  his  prey,  when, 
after  a  vigorous  shake  and  determined  grip,  the  shell 
was  released,  and  the  victorious  fish  retired  to  its  corner 
among  the  pondweed  to  think  which  of  the  two  yonder 
— snail  or  caddis — it  would  rather  have  for  supper. 

I  have  said  that  few  of  us  ever  see  the  caddis  in  its 
home.  And  yet  he  is  an  old  acquaintance  with  most  of 
us.  There  are  few  summer  evenings  when  he  does  not 
make  himself  perfectly  at  home  around  our  "evening 
lamp  "  in  the  country,  that  brown,  circling,  moth-like  in- 
sect, with  steep -sloping  wings,  and  such  a  powerfully 


304 


SHARP    EYES 


strong  odor,  being  in  truth  the  perfected   product  of 
these  tube-cases  beneath  the  water. 

A  collection  of  caddis  cases  makes  a  very  interesting 
exhibit.  I  have  shown  a  group  of  six  foreign  species, 
but  it  is  possible  that  any  one  of  them  may  yet  reward 
our  search  in  our  native  pools.  I  have  found  three 
specimens  that  closely  resemble  some  of  them. 


THE   WHIRLIGIG   WATER-BEETLE 


March  2d 


IBERNATION  is  the  law  among  the  in- 
sects  which  survive  the  winter;  but,  there 
is  a  notable  exception,  they  are  not  all 
asleep.  Indeed,  if  I  were  asked  to  name 
the  sprightliest  bit  of  life  to  be  found  in 
all  the  winter  landscape,  I  think  my  choice 
would  have  to  be,  not  the  mouse,  nor  chickadee,  nor 
even  the  hare,  but  a  little  dweller  in  the  pond  or  brook, 
one  of  the  lively  brood  that  we  brought  up  in  our  net 
last  week  as  we  dredged  in  the  mud  for  our  aquarium — 
the  little  black  whirligig-beetle  known  as  the  Gyrinus. 
Had  we  approached  the  bank  more  cautiously,  we  need 
only  have  skimmed  the  surface  of  the  water  to  have 
captured  a  whole  family  of  them. 

It  is  apparently  summer  all  the  year  round  to  the 
Gyrinus.  They  take  little  account  of  the  changes  in 
the  calendar,  and  I  fancy  their  idea  of  the  seasons  must 
be  summed  up  simply  as  "green  summer"  and  "white 
summer."  The  caterpillars  and  thaw  butterflies,  grass- 
hoppers, and  other  insects  which  we  find  in  the  freez- 
ing winter  days  are  numb  and  stiff  with  the  cold,  but 
there  is  no  numbness  nor  stiffness  known  to  these  little 
black  bodies  that  whirl  in  their  maze  of  ripples  in  many 
an  opening  in  the  ice  along  the  edge  of  the  pond. 


Seen  thus   in  early  March,  the 
observer  is  apt  to  look  upon  them 
as  eager  heralds  of  spring,  perhaps 
the    first    signs    of  returning    life    in 
animated    nature.     I   have   somewhere 
read  of  the  early  appearance  of  the  Gyrinus  being  in- 
stanced as  a  sign  of  an  .advanced  spring,  but  the  infer- 
ence is  gratuitous.     We  may  look  for  him  almost  any 
moderate  winter's  day ;    certainly,  at  least,  any  genial 
day  that    could  tempt  us  out-of-doors  has  seen   him 
there  before  us.     Their  whirling  swarms  have  surprised 
many  a  winter  walker — even  Thoreau,  who  has 
much  to  say  of  them.     In  his  notes  of  January 
**j          24,  1858,  he  writes: 

^  "At  Nut  Meadow  Brook  the  small- 

sized  water-bugs  are  as  abundant 
and  active  as  in  summer.     I  see 
forty  or  fifty  circling  together 


THE   WHIRLIGIG    WATER-BEETLE  307 

in  the  smooth  and  sunny  bays  all  along  the  brook. 
This  is  something  new  to  me.  They  seem  to  be  more 
ready  than  usual  to  dive  to  the  bottom  when  disturbed. 
At  night,  of  course,  they  dive  to  the  bottom  and  bury 
themselves,  and  if  in  the  morning  they  perceive  no  cur- 
tain of  ice  drawn  over  their  sky,  and  the  pleasant  weath- 
er continues,  they  gladly  rise  again  and  resume  their 
gyrations.  I  think  I  never  noticed  them  more  numer- 
ous. What  a  funny  way  they  have  of  going  to  bed ! 
They  do  not  take  a  light  and  go  up-stairs ;  they  go  be- 
low. Suddenly  it  is  heels  up  and  heads  down,  and  they 
go  to  their  muddy  bed,  and  let  the  unresting  stream 
flow  over  them  in  their  dreams. 

"  Sometimes  they  seem  to  have  a  little  difficulty  in 
making  the  plunge.  Maybe  they  are  too  dry  to  slip 
under.  Suppose  you  were  to  trace  the  course  of  one 
for  a  day,  what  kind  of  a  figure  would  it  make  ?  I  see 
one  chasing  a  mote,  and  the  wave  the  creature  makes 
always  causes  the  mote  to  float  away  from  it.  I  would 
like  to  know  what  it  is  they  communicate  to  one  an- 
other ;  they,  who  appear  to  value  each  other's  society 
so  much.  How  many  water-bugs  make  a  quorum  ? 
Where  did  they  get  their  backs  polished  so  ?" 

It  is  true,  as  Thoreau  says,  that  they  do  not  take  a 
candle  and  go  up-stairs  to  bed  as  some  bigger  folks  do ; 
but  if  he  supposed  that  they  went  to  bed  without  a 
light,  he  little  knew  the  bug  he  describes,  for  they  carry 
a  brilliant  lantern  that  goes  gleaming  like  a  silver  streak 
down  into  the  depths ;  for  when  those  little  "  heels  go 
up  "  a  bubble  of  air  is  caught  beneath  the  tips  of  the 
black  wing-covers,  and  a  diamond  of  pure  sunlight  ac- 
companies their  course  down  among  the  weeds  until 
they  once  more  ascend  to  the  surface.  Indeed,  this 


bubble  gives  them   a  buoy- 
ancy which    only  their   con- 
tinued downward  efforts  can 
overcome.  It  is  only  by  cling- 
ing with    their   long    front 
legs  to  the  submerged  plants 
that  they  are  able  to  remain  be- 
neath the  surface.     No  amount 
of    soaking   ever   seems   to  wet 
their  polished  armor.    When  they 
emerge    to    take    up    their    circling 
dance,  they  are  apparently  as  dry  as  the 
labelled  specimen  in  the  cabinet. 

There  is,  of  course,  a  certain  limit 
of  temperature  at  which  the  whirligig 
beetle    draws    the    line    in    its   winter 
gambols,  but  I  have  never  tested  it  with  a 
thermometer.     I   know   that    I   have   seen    them 
when  my  ears  were  tingling,  and  have  paused 
while  skating  to  study  their  rapid   circling,  when 
the  black  water  at  the  edge  of  the  ice  was  all  atan- 
gle  with  their  ripples.     At  such  a  time,  if  we  steal  close 
upon  them,  it  is  amusing  to  note  the  sudden  "heels  up 
and  heads  down"  with  which  the  swarm  dives  to  the 
depths  below.     Nor  can  you  surprise  them  so  quickly 
that  they  will  forget  their  bubbles,  even  though  they 
spatter  the  water  quite  briskly  and   make  an  audible 
clicking  of  their  wings  in  their  haste  to  be  off. 


THE   WHIRLIGIG   WATER-BEETLE  309 

These  insects  are  not  "  bugs,"  as  Thoreau  inadver- 
tently implies,  but  true  beetles,  and,  moreover,  beetles 
endowed  with  resources  far  above  the  average  of  their 
kind.  Most  beetles  are  content  with  existence  in  one 
element,  but  the  Gyrinus  is  equally  at  home  in  air  or 
water  as  the  whim  takes  him.  His  hard  polished  back 
conceals  two  gauzy  wings  which  can  be  spread  in  a 
twinkling,  giving  him  all  the  agility  of  a  fly  upon  the 
wing,  and  which  occasionally  bring  him  in  among  the 
buzzing  throng  around  "  our  evening  lamp,"  while  his 
peculiar  equipment  in  the  paddle- shaped  feet  of  the 
two  nether  pairs  of  legs  gives  him  the  lead  in  the  race 
among  all  the  insect  swimmers  under  the  water.  This 
remarkable  adaptability  to  a  dual  mode  of  existence 
is  further  strikingly  emphasized  in  the  peculiar  endow- 
ment of  vision.  The  whirligig-beetle  has  two  distinct 
sets  of  eyes ;  one  large  pair  of  goggles  beneath  its 
head,  with  which  it  commands  a  continual  view  of  its 
lacustrine  haunts  while  floating  or  circling  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  water ;  and  another  pair  on  the  lookout 
above — how  keenly  alert  we  all  know,  who  have  seen 
the  whirling  swarm  dive  with  their  bubbles  at  our  cau- 
tious approach. 

Indeed,  were  I  to  search  my  insect  cabinet  for  the 
most  appropriate  emblem  with  which  to  close  my  pages, 
I  could  scarce  find  a  happier  exponent  of  " Sharp  Eyes" 
all  around  the  calendar  than  in  our  wide-awake,  peren- 
nial little  Gyrinus.  ^ 


ABBOTT,  C.  C.,  quoted.    Claytonias,  23. 

Acorn,  germinating,  29. 

Agrimony  (Agrimonia  eupatoria),  liook- 
ed  seeds  of,  154. 

Ailantus  moth  (Samia  Cynthia)  cocoon, 
256. 

Alder,  leaf-rolling  beetle  of,  104-106. 

Ampelopsis.     See  Virginia-creeper. 

Anemone  (A.  nemorosa),  wind-flower,  21. 

Angle-wing  butterflies,  271. 

Animals  in  motion,  photographs  of,  251. 

Antiopa  butterfly.     See  Butterfly. 

Ants,  119. 

Aphides,  or  plant-lice,  119. 

Aphis-galls,  60. 

Aphis-lion  (Hemorobida),  119. 

Apples,  May,  of  Azalea  viscosa  and  Po- 
dophyllum  peltatum,  57 ;  false,  of  An- 
dromeda, 60 ;  various  so-called  apples 
— cedar,  custard,  ground,  love,  oak, 
pine,  prairie,  of  Sodom,  57. 

Apple-tree  moth,  egg-band  of,  258. 

April  and  April  birds,  38. 

Aquarium  supplies,  299. 

Arbutus,  trailing  (Rpigea  repens),  22. 

Ash,  seeds  of,  216,  284. 

Asters,  seeds  of,  173  ;  flowers  of,  at  night, 
126;  various,  227. 

Audubon,  on  the  "drum"  of  the  grouse, 
42. 

Autumn: — Calendar,  177-243;  flowers 
of,  202  ;  piping  toads,  frogs,  and  sala- 
manders ;  bird-notes,  192. 


Autumnal  streaked  warbler,  213. 
Azalea  (A.  viscosa),  57. 

BACHELOR'S-BUTTONS,  or  Blue-bottles 
(Centaurea),  126. 

"  Bagpipe  "  of  the  toad,  54. 

Bag- worm.     See  Basket-carriers. 

Balsams,  garden,  leaves  at  night,  126. 
See  Jewel-weed. 

Baltimore  oriole  (Icterus Baltimore),  224. 

Basella  flower,  pollen  of,  115. 

Basket  -  carrying  caterpillars  (Psyche), 
292-298;  Southern  superstition  con- 
nected with,  298. 

Basswood.     See  Linden. 

Bean, various  leaves  of.at  night, 126;  bean 
family,  clinging  seeds  of,  153  ;  wild- 
bean,  underground  pods  of,  165-167. 

Bed  straw. — Cleavers,  154. 

Bee  bread,  pollen  ingredients  of ;  queer 
fruits  from  the  bee's  basket,  112-116. 

Beech-nuts,  sprouting  of,  29. 

Bee,  honey  ;  abroad  in  March,  1-3,  19 ; 
its  dual  motives  in  visiting  flowers,  112; 
entrapped  by  milk-weed  blossom,  116; 
nest  of  solitary,  74  ;  leaf-cutting,  119. 

Beeswax,  112. 

Beetles  :  —  Bombardier  (Brachinus  fu- 
;««;«),  73 ;  Brazilian,  99;  clytus,  music 
of,  142;  crusader,  118;  eye-spotted 
spring  (Elater  oculatus),  vi ;  fiddling, 
140 ;  girdler  (Oncideres  cingulatus), 
260 ;  golden  cassida  (CassiJa  auri- 


3I2 


chalcea),  99;  "green  dandy"  of  the 
dog-bane  (Eumolpus  auratus),  102, 
119  ;  identification  of  beetles,  79  ;  lady- 
birds (Coccinella),  119;  leaf -rolling, 
weevils  of  hazel  and  alder  (Attelabus), 
104-106  ;  rove  (Staphylinus),  77  ;  use- 
ful tail  of,  78,  119  ;  Saperda,  music  of, 
142,  143  ;  other  musical  species,  33, 
138-142;  scavenger,  78;  snapping 
(Elater),  vi,  119;  stag  (Lucanus),  iv, 
239 ;  Thoreau  on,  306  ;  water  (Gyri- 
nus),  305  ;  remarkable  double  vision 
of,  309  ;  "going  to  bed "  with  a  bub- 
ble, 307. 

"Beggar-lice."     See  Hound'stongue. 

"Beggar-ticks"  (Desmodium),  150-155, 
170, 284 ;  night  attitude  of  leaves,  125  ; 
flowers  and  seeds  of,  153. 

Benzoin.     See  Spice-bush. 

Bidens,  150-154. 

Bind-weed  (Calystegea  septum),  gold  bee- 
tle of,  100. 

Birch,  white,  bark  in  nest,  220 ;  sugary 
sap  of,  enticing  bees,  2  ;  curious  seed 
catkins  of,  286-288  ;  seed-scales  on 
snow,  285-288  ;  birch  and  ash  associ- 
ated, 217;  leaf  and  Indian  arrow-head, 
217;  broom  gall  of,  259. 

Bird  entrapped  by  a  burdock,  197. 

Birds  : — Of  April,  38  ;  in  winter,  food  of, 
280-284;  °f  November,  212. 

Bird's-nests,  materials  of,  219-225;  vireo, 
220 ;  cherry-pits,  buckwheat  shells  in, 
225;  hazel-nuts  in,  223;  deserted, 
used  as  winter  resorts,  230. 

Bird -songs,  imitative  of  insect  songs, 
128-131 ;  in  words,  40. 

Bitterweed.     See  Ragweed,  Small. 

Black  and  yellow  warbler,  213. 

Blackbird  :  —  Crackles,  41  ;  redwinged, 
song  of,  40. 

Black  snake  as  a  nest  hunter,  230. 

Black  swallow-tail  butterfly.  See  But- 
terfly. 


Bloodroot  {Sanguinaria  Canadensis),  21, 

Bluebird,  39  ;  song  of,  40 ;  in  autumn, 
212. 

Blue -bottles  (Centaurea  cyanus),  trans- 
formation of  flowers  at  night,  126. 

Blue  lettuce  (Afulgedium),  seed  of,  173. 

Blue  mud-wasp  (Pelopaus),  156. 

Blue  swallow-tail.     See  Butterfly. 

Bobolinks,  migration  of,  212. 

Bombardier-beetle  (Brachinus),  73. 

Botany  :  —  Teachers  of,  among  butter- 
flies, 80—86  ;  lesson  from  a  squirrel, 
17  ;  practical,  93,  151 ;  in  a  cobweb, 
171. 

Bower-building  caterpillar,  168. 

Brewer,  the  ornithologist,  on  the  "  drum" 
of  the  grouse,  42. 

Bryant,  W.  C.,  quoted.  Hepatica,  22; 
"painted-cup,"  61,  62;  drum  of  the 
"  partridge,"  42  ;  fringed  gentian,  227; 
yellow  violet,  20,  21;  trailing  arbutus, 
22  ;  birch  leaves,  218. 

Buckwheat  shells  in  bird's-nest,  225. 

Buds,  opening,  48  ;  various  tints  of,  in 
landscape  ;  leaf  arrangement  in  ;  lin- 
den and  tulip-tree,  49 ;  hickory,  horse- 
chestnut,  50  ;  winter,  of  dogwood,  49, 
50. 

Bumblebee,  a  mock,  179. 

Bunting,  white,  213  ;  nest  materials  of, 
224. 

Burdock  (Lappa  major),  dew  on  leaf,  122; 
seed  of,  155;  a  trap  for  birds,  197. 

Burr-grass  (CencArus),  155,  274. 

Burroughs,  John,  quoted.  "  April,"  38  ; 
Robin,  39  ;  drum  of  the  grouse,  42  ; 
fringed  gentian,  227;  peeping  frogs,  6 ; 
early  spring  flowers,  22,  23  ;  ragweed, 
280;  weeds,  150;  whistling  salaman- 
der, 194. 

Burrs,  120,  150-155,  197. 

Bush  clover  (Lespedeza),  night  attitude 
of  leaves,  125. 

Buttercup,  seed  of,  284. 


313 


Butterflies :  —  Antiopa  ( Vanessa  Anti- 
opa), 34,  270 ;  rustling  wing  of,  32 ; 
hibernation  of,  270;  wing -music  of, 
30-33,  141 ;  caterpillars  of,  33 :  Ar- 
chippus  (Danais),  84  ;  black  swallow- 
tail (Asterias),  80 ;  caterpillar  and 
chrysalis  of,  82;  blue  swallow-tail 
(  Troilus),  curious-eyed  caterpillar  of, 
132-134  ;  comma,  34,  84,  271  ;  Hunt- 
er's, petal  bower  of,  168  ;  red  admiral 
(Pyrameis  Atalanta),  34,  270;  semi- 
colon (Grapta  inter rogationis),  34,  84, 
271;  yellow  (Philodice),  84 ;  ichneu- 
mon parasites  of,  200; — Butterflies 
as  botany  teachers,  80-86;  tipsy,  271; 
winter,  34,  184,  270;  winter  pets,  273. 

Butterfly-net  as  a  companion  to  a  walk, 
117. 

Button-wood,  leaf  socket  of,  45. 

CABBAGE,  dew  on  leaf  of,  122. 

Caddis,  larva  of,  299-304;  fine  mosaic 
tenement  of,  301;  its  water-proof  ce- 
ment, 302  ;  enemies  of,  303;  caddis-fly, 
303  ;  foreign  specimens,  304. 

Calico-bush.     See  Mountain-laurel. 

Calla  (Calla  Ethiopicd),  a  relative  of 
skunk-cabbage,  3. 

Camberwell  beauty.  See  Butterfly  {A nti- 
opd). 

Cape  May  warbler.     See  Warblers. 

Cardinal  -  flower  {Lobelia  cardinalis), 
brilliancy  of,  62. 

Carnivorous  fly,  162,  179-182. 

Carrot  (Daucus  carota),  seed  of  wild,  284. 

Cassia.     See  Partridge-pea. 

Catchfly  (Silene  nutans)  flowers  at  night, 
126. 

Caterpillars: — Apple-tree  web  or  tent, 
258;  Vanessa  Antiopa,  33;  skins  of, 
in  bird's-nest,  22 1  ;  basket-carrying 
(Psyche  ephemera formis),  292-298; 
of  black  swallow-tail  butterfly  (Papilio 
Asterias),  82;  of  blue  swallow-tail 


(Papilio  Troilus),  132;  bower-build- 
ers,  168,  169 ;  burrowing,  97 ;  fungus 
growing  upon  a,  191 ;  ichneumon  par- 
asites of,  67-72,  199;  oak  (Dryo- 
campd),  97  ;  puss-moth,  with  whip- 
lashes, 144;  span-worm,  118. 

Cat -tail  (Typha  lati folia),  seed -down 
of,  173- 

Cecropia  (Platysamia),  cocoon  of,  253; 
moth,  256;  parasites  of,  71. 

Cedar-apple,  57. 

Centaury,  226. 

Champignon.     See  Fairy-ring  Fungus. 

Chemical  experiment  with  scou ring-rush, 
Hi. 

Cherry-pits  in  a  bird's-nest,  225. 

Chestnut-burr,  fungus  growing  upon ,  1 88. 

Chickadee  and  willow-cone  gall,  208. 

Chickaree,  276. 

Chickweed,  226 ;  blossoms  under  snow, 
210,  227. 

Chimney  swift,  nest  materials  of,  224. 

Chipping-sparrow,  nest  materials  of,  224; 
nest  of,  as  a  winter  nursery,  231. 

Chrysalis  (Dryocampa)  emerging  from 
ground,  96  ;  of  Antiopa  butterfly,  33  ; 
of  blue  swallow-tail,  134;  of  Hunter's 
butterfly,  169 ;  of  milk-weed  butterfly 
(Archippus),%4;  fungus  growing  upon, 
190. 

Cicada,  or  harvest-fly  ("locust"),  drum 
°f>  33.  X38  ',  cicada  and  "  locust"  dis- 
tinguished, 139. 

Cichory  (Cichoriuni),  seed  of,  284;  pollen 
of,  115. 

Claytonia.     See  Spring  Beauty. 

Cleavers  (Galiuni),  clinging  seeds  of,  154. 

Clematis  (C.  Virginiand),  seed  of,  172. 

Clotbur  seeds,  155. 

Clover  ( Trifoliuni),  various  night  atti- 
tudes of  leaves,  125,  126;  sprouting 
seeds  of,  29. 

Club  mosses  (Lycopodiuni),  explosive 
spores  of,  146-149. 


3H 


Cobweb,  botany  lesson  from,  171  ;  in 
dew,  124;  in  birds'-nests,  221. 

Cockle-seeds,  155. 

Cocoons,  Platysamia  Cecropia  and  Pro- 
metheus, 253  ;  winter  harvest  of,  Ce- 
cropia, Polyphemus  and  Prometheus, 
parasitic  broods  from,  67—72  ;  ailantus 
(Cynthia),  256;  of  bag-worm,  292; 
of  tussock-moth  in  bird's-nest,  221  ; 
cocoon  clusters  on  grass-stems,  199. 

Colt's-foot.     See  Wild-ginger. 

Comma  butterfly.     See  Butterfly. 

Composite,  winged  seeds  of,  171;  cling- 
ing barbed  seeds  of,  153. 

Cone-gall  of  willow,  207. 

Cones,  207 ;  pine  (see  Pine-cones),  spu- 
rious, 207. 

Convolvulus.  See  Morning-glory  and 
Bind-weed. 

Coon-hair  in  bird's-nest,  224. 

Coral-winged  locust  (CEdipoda  corallind), 

34- 

Corn  in  a  bird's-nest,  232. 

Cotyledons  in  seeds,  design  of,  29. 

Cow-bird,  230. 

Cranesbill  (Geranium  maculatum),  flow- 
ers at  night,  126. 

Creeping  mallow  (Malva  rotundi folia), 
226. 

Cricket,  white  tree  (CEcanthus  niveus), 
119. 

Crow  in  autumn,  212. 

Cuckoo,  yellow-billed,  nest  material  of, 
224. 

Cucumber,  star  (Sicyos  angulatus*),  pol- 
len of,  115. 

Custard-apple.     See  Papaw. 

DAISIES,  226. 

Dandelion,  38,  202,  226  ;  in  autumn  and 
winter,  227 ;  feathered  seed-balls  of, 
170;  seed,  171 ;  seeds  in  bird's-nest, 
221;  dwarf  (Krigia),  beautiful  seed 
of,  172. 


Darwin,  allusion  to,  282. 

Deer-hair  in  bird's-nest,  224. 

Deer-mouse  (ffesperomys  leucopus),  nest 
of,  248. 

Desmodium,  various  species,  flowers,  and 
clinging  seeds  of,  153. 

"  Devil's  coach-horse,"  77. 

Dew,  singular  freaks  of,  on  various  plants, 
122,  124. 

Dicentra  {Cucullaria),  21. 

Dog-bane  (Apocynum  andros ami  foli- 
um) and  milk-weed,  resemblance  be- 
tween, 85;  brilliant  beetle  of,  102, 119. 

Dog-wood,  flowering  (Cornus  florida), 
49;  expansion  of  bud  to  bloom,  50; 
the  "  corn  signal,"  39. 

Dog -wood,  poison.  See  Sumach  {R. 
venenata.} 

Draba.     See  Whitlow-grass. 

Dutchman's -breeches  {Dicentra  cucul- 
laria),  21. 

EGGS  of  apple-tree  moth,  258. 

Elder,  poison.  See  Sumach  (A3,  venenata.) 

Elm,  seed  of,  284. 

Emerson,  R.  W.,  quoted.  April's  bird, 
39  ;  weeds,  280  ;  Nature  study,  246. 

Enchanter's  nightshade  (Circcea  luteti- 
ana),  pollen  of,  114;  clinging  seeds 
of,  154- 

English  plantain.     See  Plantain. 

Equisetum,  107-111.  See  Scouring- 
rush. 

Evening  primrose  (CEnothera  biennis), 
winter  leaf  rosettes  of,  240,  241 ;  pollen 
of,  1 14 ;  opening  of  ;  daylight  moth 
tenant  of,  135. 

Everlasting,  dwarf  (Antennaria  planta- 
ginifolia),  21,22;  Gnaphalium,  cater- 
pillar bower  of,  168. 

Eye,  the  seeing,  176. 

"FAIRY-RING"  mushroom,  177;  snow 
circles,  269. 


315 


False  winter-green.     See  Polygala. 

Fennel-worm.     See  Butterfly  (Asterias). 

Field  -  mouse,  tracks  of,  in  snow,  248  ; 
wintering  in  a  bird's-nest,  232. 

Finch,  purple,  nest  materials  of,  224. 

Fire  -  weed  (Epilobium  angustifolium), 
winter  rosettes  of,  241. 

Fire -works  from  club -mosses  in  the 
woods,  149. 

Fish-crow  as  a  nest-hunter,  230. 

Flagg,  Wilson,  quoted.  "Drum"  of 
grouse,  42  ;  vireo,  221. 

Flicker,  or  golden-winged  woodpecker, 
40. 

Flowering  dog-wood.     See  Dog-wood. 

Flowering  winter  -  green,  or  Fringed 
polygala,  63. 

Flowerless  plants  (A  crogens),  type  of,  107. 

Flowers,  earliest,  1-3,  19-24;  under- 
ground, of  polygala,  63,  64,  and  wild- 
bean,  165;  of  autumn,  202;  flowers 
which  are  not  flowers — painted-cup, 
62;  dog- wood,  50;  flowers  without  pet- 
als never  opening  (Cleistogarnic),  205; 
various,  at  night,  126-128.  See  Wild 
Flowers. 

Fly,  a  talking,  162-164 ;  blue-bottle,  in 
bird's-nest,  221;  carnivorous  (Asilus), 
164—179;  mimic  bumblebee  {Laph- 
ria),  179-182  ;  various,  in  sweep-net, 
119. 

Fly -catcher,  great -crested,  snake -skin 
nest  of,  224. 

Flying  seeds,  170-174. 

Fox-hair  in  bird's-nest,  224. 

Fox-sparrow  (Passerella  iliaca),  213. 

Fragrant  sumach(RAusaromatica),  90,94. 

Fries,  the  fungologist,  on  puff-ball,  177, 
187. 

Fringed  gentian  (G.  Crinita),  flowers  at 
night,  126;  Bryant's  allusion  to,  227. 

Fringed  polygala  (P.paucifolia),  63. 

Frog  music,  52,  53  ;  European,  6;  South- 
ern, 55. 


Frogs,  clucking,  52;  Savannah  cricket 
(Acris  crtpitans),  8,  10;  peeping  (ffy- 
lodes  Pic keringi),6-i2\  song  of,  8;  in 
autumn,  9,  194  ;  tree, 9;  wood,  52, 194; 
toy  decoy  ("locust")  for  mimicry  of, 
52 ;  mimicry  of  song,  9,  52,  194. 

Frost-weed  (ffeliantfamum),  210. 

Fruit,  an  underground,  165—167. 

Fungus  : — Cedar-apple,  57  ;  fairy  ring, 
177;  growing  on  insects,  190,  191 ;  va- 
rious speciesof,  187-191;  myriad  spores 
of,  187  ;  method  of  vegetation,  177. 

GAI.INSOGA,  beautiful  seed  of,  172. 

Galls : — Aphis,  60  ;  cone,  of  willow,  207; 
rose,  of  willow,  209;  of  golden-rod, 
257;  oak-apple,  57  ;  various,  208,  257; 
witch  -  brooms,  259  (see  also  May- 
apple,  58;  and  false  May-apple,  60.) 

Garlic  flower,  pollen  of,  115. 

Gentian,  fringed  (Gentiana  crinita),  126, 
227  ;  closed  (<7.  Andrewsii),  228. 

Geranium,  wild,  or  Cranesbill,  126. 

Gerarde  and  his  "rose-willow,"  209. 

Germination  : — Maple,  4,  5,  25-29  ;  oak, 
clover,  and  beech,  25-29. 

Ginger,  wild  (Asarum  Canadensis),  21. 

Ginseng,  dwarf  (Aralia  tri folia),  65. 

Girdler-beetle  (Oncideres),  260. 

Gnat-catcher,  blue-gray,  nest  materials 
of,  224. 

Gnats  in  sweep-net.  119. 

Golden-beetle {Cassida  aurichalcea),  99. 

Golden-crested  thrush.     See  Oven-bird. 

Golden-crested  wren,  nest  materials  of, 
224. 

Golden-rod  (Solidagd),  202,  226 ;  bulb- 
ous, gall  of,  257  ;  musical  beetles  of, 
142;  seeds  of,  173. 

Goose-grass.     See  Cleavers. 

Gossamers  and  dew,  124. 

Crackles,  41. 

Grass,  blades  of,  marking  on  snow,  268. 

Grasshopper  :  —  Meadow    (Orchelimum 


INDEX 


vulgare),  song  of,  129, 138 ;  a  bird-mimic 
of  song,  1 28— 131;  cone-head  (Conoceph- 
alus  ensiger),  song  of,  138;  Grasshop- 
per music,  33;  "Grasshopper,"  ci- 
cada, and  "locust"  distinguished,  139; 
Grasshoppers  captured  in  sweep-net, 
118;  parasites  of,  119. 

Grasshopper  -  lark  (  Alauda  trivialis ), 
128. 

Grass-seed,  extraordinary,  155. 

Gray,  Dr.  Asa,  quoted.  "  May-apples," 
59;  ragweed,44;  germinating seeds,27. 

Great-crested  fly-catcher,  snake-skin  nest 
of,  223. 

Green  dandy  Beetle  (Eumolpus  auratus), 
108, 119. 

Ground-apples,  57. 

Ground-nut  (Aralia  trifolia),  65  ;  Apios 
tuberosa,  night  attitude  of  leaves,  126. 

Ground-pine.     See  Club-moss. 

Groundsel  shrub  {Baccharis  halmifolia), 
beautiful  seed-tuft  of,  174. 

Grouse,  ruffed,  "drum"  of,  41;  theo- 
ries of  the  mysterious  sound  from  vari- 
ous authorities,  42;  snow-shoes  of,  265; 
snow  burrows  of,  267. 

HAIR-BIRD.     See  Chipping-sparrow. 
Hare,  footprints  of,  in  snow,  250. 
Harvest-fly,  or  Cicada,  33,  138. 
Hay-fever  and  ragweed  pollen,  280. 
Hazel,  leaf-roller  of  (Attelabus),    104; 

witch,  see  Witch-hazel. 
Hazel-nuts  in  a  bird's-nest,  233. 
Hedgehog -grass  (Cettc/irus),  burr -seed 

of,  155,  284. 

Hepatica.     See  Liverwort. 
Hibernation  among  insects,  305. 
Hickory,  opening  buds  of,  50 ;    beetle- 

pruner  of,  260. 

"  Highhole  "  woodpecker.     See  Flicker. 
Hog  peanut  (Amphicarpea),  leaves   of, 

at    night,  126 ;    underground   flowers 

and  pods  of,  165-167. 


Hogweed.     See  Ragweed,  Small. 
Holmes,  O.  W.,  quoted,  xxii. 
Honeysuckle,  wild  (Azalea  viscosa),  58. 
Hood,  Thomas,  quoted,  219. 
Hornet's-nest  fragments  in  bird's-nest, 

221. 

Horse-chestnut  :  —  Buds  of,  48,  50 ;   re- 
markable leaf-scar  of,  263. 
Horse-hair  in  birds'-nests,  224. 
Horse-tail  (Equisetum),  beautiful  dew 

decoration  of,  122.    See  also  Scouring- 

rush. 
Hound'stongue  (Cynoglossum  Morisoni), 

"beggar-lice,"  154. 
Human  inventions  and  their  prehistoric 

models,  239. 
Humblebee,  "honey-bags  and  red  hips  " 

of,  112. 

Humming-bird,  nest  materials  of,  224. 
Hylodes.     See  Frogs,  Peeping. 

ICE  conservatory,  228. 

Ichneumon  flies  : — A  remarkable  wood- 
boring  (Thalessa  lunator),  234  —  239; 
construction  and  object  of  drill ;  the 
victim  of  the  ichneumon,  238  ; 
"  wasps  "  from  caterpillar  cocoons,  68- 
72,  199. 

Indian  paddle  and  ash  seed,  216. 

Indian  turnip  (Psoralea  escttlenta),  57. 

Insects  : — Entrapped  by  milk-weed  blos- 
som, 116;  for  aquarium,  300;  gall-pro- 
ducing, 57,  60,  257-259  ;  in  the  grass, 
77,  117;  harvest  of  sweep-net,  117— 
120;  hibernation  of ,  305  ;  music  of,  30, 
33.  34.  r3S;  imitated  by  birds,  128- 
131  of  winter,  34,  234,  270,  289,  292, 
299,  305;  under  stones,  74;  wood-bor- 
ers, 34,  234-239; — Insect  magicians, 
208,257;  parasites  on, 67-72,  119,145- 
199.  See  also  Beetles,  Butterflies,  Cat- 
erpillars, Chrysalis,  Cocoons,  Moths. 

Iron-weed  ( Veronia),  seeds  of,  173. 

Ivy, ' '  five-leaved. "  See  Virginia-creeper. 


317 


Ivy,  poison,  or  "  three  -leaved." 
Sumach  (A",  toxicodetulrori). 


See 


JAYS  as  nest-hunters,  230. 
Jewel-weed  (Impatient),  night  attitude 
and  beautiful  dewy  revelation  of,  124. 


Love-apples,  57. 

Lowell,  J.  R.,  quoted,  on  opening  buds, 
48  ;  dandelion,  38,  227 ;  spring  black- 
birds, 41. 

Lupines,  various  night  attitudes  of  leaves, 
126. 


June-berry  or   Shad-blow  (Amelanchier    Lycopodium,  club-moss   spores,  inflam- 


Canadensis),  49. 

KENTUCKY  warbler,  nest  material  of, 
224. 

Kinglet,  ruby-crowned  (Regulus  calen- 
dula), 215. 

Kirby,  the  naturalist,  quoted,  128 

LACE  in  bird's-nest,  222. 

Lace-wing  fly  (Ckrysopa  Oculata),  118. 

Lady-birds  (Coccinella),  119. 

Lark,  meadow,  40. 

Laurel  (Kalmia  lati folia),  jumping  sta- 
mens and  pollen  of,  114. 

Leaf-cutting  bee,  119. 

Leaf  -  hoppers  (Helochara)  caught  in 
sweep-net,  1 18. 

Leaf-roller  of  the  hazel  and  the  alder, 
104-106  ;  the  process  described,  105. 

Leaf-rosettes  under  snow,  240-243. 

Leaves  masquerading  as  flowers,  50-62; 
night  attitudes  of,  123-127. 

Leguminous  plants  classified  by  butter- 
fly, 84. 

Lettuce,  wild.     See  Wild  Lettuce. 

Linden  ( Tilia  Americana),  opening  buds 
of,  49. 

Liverwort  (Hepatica  triloba\  22-24,  227; 
Bryant  on,  22,  23  ;  under  snow,  24. 

Lizard.     See  Salamander. 

Locust  and  grasshopper,  34  ;  the  right 
and  wrong  of  "locust,"  139;  coial- 
winged  (CEdipoda  corallina),  34,  139  ; 
green,  35  ;  "fiddling "of,  33,  139  (see 
Cicada); — "Locust,"  toy,  52. 

Locust  (Robinia  Pseudacacia),  night  at- 
titudes of  leaves,  96. 


mable  nature  of,  146-149. 

McCooK,  A.  G.,  quoted,  298. 
Magnifying-glass,  pocket,  117. 
Mallow,  creeping  (Malva  rotundifolia"), 

226. 
Mandrake  (Podophyllum  peltatuni),  58, 

59- 

Maple  :  —  Buds  of,  48  j  caterpillars  of, 
98;  silver,  blossoms  of,  22  ;  sugar,  and 
bees,  2  ; — maple-seed  revels,  4;  sprout- 
ing samaras,  5  ;  masquerading  seeds, 
25-28 

Marigold,  night  aspect  of  flowers,  126. 

Mason-wasps.  See  Wasp,  Mud-dauber, 
and  Vase-maker. 

May-apples,  57;  of  Azalea  -viscosa,  58; 
of  Podophyllum  peltatuni,  58,  59 ;  Dr. 
Gray's  allusion  to,  59  ;  false  May-ap- 
ples, 58. 

May-flower.     See  Trailing  Arbutus. 

May-weed  (Maruta),  seed  of,  284. 

Meadow-lark,  40. 

Meadow-lily,  pollen  of,  114. 

Melilot  clover,  night  aspect  of  leaves, 
126. 

Melon  flower,  explosive  pollen  of,  115. 

Microscope,  pocket,  117;  interesting 
specimens  for;  Equisetum  spores,  108 ; 
Equisetum  skeleton,  in;  pollen,  114. 

Midnight,  plants  by,  121-127. 

Milk-weed  (Asclepias  cornuti) :— Seed  of, 
172,  284;  blossom  of,  entrapping  in- 
sects, 116;  pompons  made  from  seeds, 
174;  stalk  fibres  used  in  birds'-nests, 
220;  family,  classified  by  butterfly,  85; 
butterfly,  see  Butterfly  (Archippus). 


Mocking-thrush.     See  Thmsh. 

Morning-glory,  gold  beetles  on,  101. 

Mosses,  club.     See  Club  Mosses. 

Moth,  feather -winged,  119;  Bull's-eye 
(Saturnia  /<?),  xvi ;  evening  primrose, 
135;  rosy,  98;  sack  -  bearer  (Psyche), 
298  (see  Apple-tree  Moth,  Cecropia, 
Polyphemus,  Prometheus,  Dryocampa, 
96  ;  also  Chrysalis  and  Cocoon). 

Mountain  •  laurel  (Kalmia  la  ti folia), 
jumping  stamens  and  pollen  of,  114. 

Mourning  cloak.  See  Butterfly  (Anti- 
opa). 

Mouse,  field ;  nest  of,  74 ;  tracks  of,  in 
snow,  248 ;  winter  nursery  of,  in  a 
bird's-nest,  232;  white-footed  or  deer- 
mouse  (Lcucopus),  247. 

Mullein  (Verbascum  thapsus)  flowers 
at  night,  126;  Moth  mullein  (V,  blat- 
tarid),  winter  rosettes  of,  241. 

Mushroom,  fairy-ring,  177;  various,  187— 
191. 

Music  of  insects,  30,  33,  34,  128-131, 
138. 

Musk  flower,  pollen  of,  115. 

Muybridge,  instantaneous  photographs 
by,  251. 

NASTURTIUM  ( Troptxoluni],  night  atti- 
tude of,  and  dewy  sheen,  122. 
'  Nests  and  nest  -  building.      See  Birds'- 
nests. 

Nettle  family  distinguished  by  butterfly, 
84. 

Nettle-tree  (Celtis),  sugar-berry  gall  on, 

259- 

Newspaper  fragments  in  bird's-nest,  221, 
222. 

New  Zealand  caterpillar  fungus,  191. 
Night,  plants  by,  121-127. 
Night-flowering  catchfly,  126. 
Nightshade,   enchanter's   (Circaa    lute- 

tiana),  pollen  of,  114;  clinging  seeds 

of,  154. 


November  birds,  212. 
November  wild  flowers,  210,  226. 

OAK: — Buds  of,  48;  clinging  leaves,  45 ; 

fungus    growing    upon,    189 ;    acorn 

sprouting,  29 ;    caterpillar  of   (Dryo- 

campd),  97. 
Oak,  poison.    See  Sumach  (A1,  toxicoden- 

droti). 

Oriole,  Baltimore,  nest  ingredients  of  ,224. 
Oven-bird,  nest  materials  of,  224. 
Owls,  230. 
Oyster -plant  (Tragopogon  porrifolins), 

beautiful  seed  of,  172. 

PAINTED-CUP  (Castilleia  cocdnea),  61. 

Papaw  (Asimina  triloba),  57. 

Parasites,  insect,  67-72,  119,  145,  199. 

Partridge.     See  Grouse,  Ruffed. 

Partridge-pea  ( Cassia  chamcccrista), night 
transformation  of,  125. 

Pea  blossoms  at  night,  126. 

Peanut,  young  plant  in  kernel,  28  ;  hog, 
see  Hog-peanut. 

Peepers.     See  Frog. 

Peppergrass  (Lepidium  Virginicuni),  ro- 
settes of,  in  winter,  240-242. 

Phoebe-bird,  40. 

Photographs,  instantaneous,  of  Muy- 
bridge, 251. 

Phillotaxy,  242. 

Pickering's  frog.     See  Frog. 

Pigeon  Tremex  (  Tremex  columba),  a  vic- 
tim to  the  drilling  ichneumon  fly,  238. 

Pignut.     See  Ground-nut  Ginseng. 

Pig  -  weed  ( Chenopodium  album ) ,  seed 
packet  of,  284;  (Amarantus  hybridus), 
night  attitude  of  leaves,  126. 

Pineapple,  57. 

Pine,  pollen  of,  115;  explosive  properties 
of  pollen,  149. 

Pine-cones  : — Clicking  of,  in  March,  13  ; 
gray  squirrel  burrowing  for,  278  ;  hy- 
grometric  properties  of,  15  ;  queer 


319 


motions  of,  14  ;  spiral  arrangement  of 
scales  in,  17;  the  squirrel  unlocking 
cone,  17  ;  seed  of  pine,  217,  284. 

Pith  in  bird's-nest,  221. 

"  Pitchforks,"  151.     See  Beggar  -  ticks. 

Plantain  (Plantago  major),  dew  on,  122; 
English  (P.  lanceolata),  rosettes  of, 
in  winter,  241,  242. 

Plants,  classified  by  butterflies,  80-86; 
dew  on,  121-124;  night  aspect  or  sleep 
of,  124-127. 

Pod,  underground,  of  the  wild  bean,  165- 
167. 

Poison -dogwood,  poison-elder,  poison- 
sumach.  See  Sumach  (R.  venenata). 
Poison-ivy,  poison-oak.  See  Sumach 
(/V*.  toxic  ode  ndroti). 

Poisonous  "  May-apples,"  60. 

Pollen,  various  forms  of,  112— 116;  of 
milk -weed ,  insects  encumbered  by ,  1 16 ; 
of  skunk-cabbage,  and  bees,  2  ;  explo- 
sive, of  pine,  149. 

Polygala,  fringed  (Polygala  paucifolid), 
underground  flowers  of,  63,  64. 

Polyphemus  moth  (Telea  Polyphemus), 
cocoons  and  parasites  of,  67-72. 

Pomme-Blanche,  or  prairie-apple,  57. 

Poplar-seeds,  cotton  of,  170. 

Poppy  (Papaver),  night-closing  of  flow- 
ers, 127. 

Prairie-apple,  57. 

Prairie-hen,  foot  of,  267. 

Prairie-warbler,  nest  materials  of,  224. 

Primrose.     See  Evening  Primrose. 

Prometheus  moth,  cocoon  of,  255. 

Puff-ball  fungus,  177,  187. 

Purple  finch,  nest  materials  of,  224. 

Purslane,  or  Pusley  (Portulacaoleraced), 
night  attitude  of  leaves,  127. 

Puss-moth  caterpillar  (Cerura  borealis), 
singular  features  of,  144. 

RABBIT.     See  Hare. 

Ragweed,  great  (Ambrosia  trifida),  stat- 


ure and  pith  of,  43  ;  pollen  of,  as  a 
cause  of  hay-fever,  280 ;  seed  of,  284  ; 
seeds  of,  as  food  for  birds,  280 ;  small 
(A.  arlimisifolia),  44. 

Red-eyed  vireo,  remarkable  nest  of,  221. 

Redwing  blackbird,  40. 

Reed  mace.     See  Cat-tail. 

Rib -grass  plantain  (P.  lanceolate),  241, 
242. 

Riley,  C.  V.,  on  the  bag- worm,  296. 

Robin,  38,  224. 

Rock  flower  (Saxifraga  Virginiensis), 
21,  22. 

Roman  wormwood.  See  Ragweed, Small. 

Rosettes  of  leaves  in  winter ;  evening 
primrose,  thistle,  peppergrass,  plan- 
tain, 240-243, 

Rose,  wild,  202  ;  at  night,  126. 

"Rose  willow,"  209. 

Rove  beetles.     See  Beetles. 

Ruby-crowned  kinglet,  215. 

Rue  Anemone  (Thalictrum  anemo- 
noides),  21. 

Ruffed  grouse.     See  Grouse. 

SALAMANDER,  74  ;  a  whistling,  194. 

Salsify,  or  oyster-plant,  172. 

Sanicle,  clinging  seeds  of,  154. 

Sassafras,  eyed  caterpillar  of,  132. 

Savannah  cricket.     See  Frog. 

Saxifrage,  early.     See  Rock  Flower. 

Scarlet  painted-cup,  61. 

Scotch  pine,  clicking  cones  of,  13. 

Scouring- rush  (Equisetwn  /iyetnale),io']— 
111,122;  use  by  early  settlers,  107- 
no;  antiquity  of,  122;  fruit  and 
squirming  spores  of,  108 ,  stone  skele- 
ton of,  disclosed  by  a  chemical  experi- 
ment, in. 

Sea-groundsel  (Baccharis),  174. 

Sedge,  seed  of,  284. 

Seeds: — Curious  shapes  of,  illustrated. 
282;  dissemination  of,  150;  agrimony, 
154;  ash,  216;  aster,  173;  bedstraw, 


320 


INDEX 


150  ;  birch,  288  ;  blue  lettuce  (Mulge- 
diuni),  173  ;  burdock,  155  ;  burdock- 
seeds  and  birds,  197  ;  burrs  and  stick- 
seed,  150-155,  197  ;  cat-tail  (Typha), 
173;  clematis,  172  ;  enchanter's  night- 
shade (Circcea),  154  ;  galinsoga,  172  ; 
galium,  150;  golden-rod,  173  ;  goose- 
grass  (Chenopodiuni),  154  ;  groundsel- 
tree  (Bacckaris),  174;  hedgehog  grass, 
155,  284  ;  hound'stongue,  154  ;  ma- 
ple, 4,  5,  25-27  ;  milk-weed,  172-174; 
pine,  13-18;  poison-ivy,  93;  salsify,  or 
-  oyster-plant,  172  ;  sanicle,  154;  shoot- 
ing, 203,  205  ;  thistle,  171-174;  tulip- 
tree,  274,  284;  weed-seeds,  180-184; 
wild  lettuce,  173;  willow, 170;  winged, 
170-174 ;  witch-hazel,  203. 

Seeds,  germination  of,  24-29;  cotyle- 
dons, designs  of,  29. 

Semicolon  butterfly.     See  Butterfly. 

Service-berry.     See  Shad-blow. 

Shad-blow  (A  melanchier  Canadensis),  49. 

Shakespeare,  quoted.  "Pignut,"  66; 
"red -hipped  bumblebee"  and  his 
"honey-bags,"  112. 

Shave  grass.     See  Scouring-rush. 

Shooting  seeds,  203,  205. 

Shrimp,  fairy  (Branchippus  v  emails),^. 

Silk-weed.     See  Milk-weed. 

Silver  maple.     See  Maple. 

Skunk-cabbage  (Sytnplocarpus  fcetidus], 
pioneer  blossom  of,  3,  19,  23,  24,  226, 
227. 

Sleep  of  plants,  124-127. 

Smart-weed  (Pofygonum),  seed  of,  284. 

Snake,  black,  as  a  nest  hunter,  230. 

Snake-head.     See  Turtle-head. 

Snake-root,  black.     See  Sanicle. 

Snake-skins  in  vireo  nest,  222;  bird  col- 
lector of,  223. 

Snapping-beetle,  great  eye-spotted  (Ela- 
ter oculatus) ,  vi,  119;  under  stone,  74. 

Sneeze  -  weed  {Helenium  autumnale), 
seed  of,  284. 


Snow-bird,  213  ;  snow -bunting  (Junco 
hyemalis),ziy,  nest  materials  of,  224. 

Snow-burrowers  : — Grouse,  267  ;  squir- 
rel, 276. 

Snow  : — Curious  specks  on,  285  ;  stories 
in,  247;  rings  and  other  devices  of 
wind  -  blown  grasses  in,  268  ;  snow- 
tracks  of  grouse,  264 ;  of  mice,  248  ;  of 
rabbit.  250. 

Snow-fleas  (Podura),  289. 

Soldier  bugs  in  sweep-net,  119. 

Solitary  vireo,  nest  materials  of,  224. 

Sorrel-sheep  (ftumex  acetoselld),  rosettes 
of,  in  winter,  240. 

Sorrel,  wood,  (Oxalis),  night  aspect  of 
leaves,  127. 

Spanish  needles,  151. 

Spanworm,  118. 

Sparrow : — Chipping,  nest  materials  of, 
224;  winter  tenant  of  nest,  231  ;  fox, 
213;  song,  40,  212;  yellow -winged, 
insect-like  song  of,  130. 

Spice-bush  caterpillar  (Papilio  Troilus), 
132. 

Spider  prisoners  in  a  wasp-net,  156, 161. 

Spiders,  various,  119,  161. 

Spider-web: — Botany  lesson  from  a,  171; 
in  the  dew,  124  ;  in  bird's-nest,  221. 

Spores,  squirming,  of  scouring-grass ;  in- 
flammable, of  club  mosses ;  of  Fungi, 
177,  187. 

Spring  beauty  ( Claytonia  Virginica),  21, 
22,  23. 

Spring  calendar,  i— 86. 

Spring  flowers,  1-3,  20-24. 

Spring  foliage,  tender  tints  of,  48,  49. 

Squirrel: — As  a  bird's-nest  hunter,  230; 
gray,  as  a  snow-burrovver;  in  winter, 
276;  red,  a  botany  lesson  from,  17; 
providence  of,  278. 

Squirrel-cups.     See  Liverwort. 

Stag-beetle  (Lucanus),  239. 

Star  cucumber  ( Sicyos  angulatus),  pollen 
of,  115. 


Starling.     See  Blackbird,  Red-winged. 

Stick-seeds,  150-155. 

Stones,  life  under,  73. 

Stony  skeleton  of  the  scouring  -  rush 
shown  by  a  chemical  experiment,  no. 

Sugar-berry  tree  (Celtis),  gall  of,  259. 

Sugar-maple  and  early  bees,  2. 

Succory.     See  Cichory. 

Sumach,  fragrant  (Rhus  aromatica),  90, 
94;  poison,  89;  distinguishing  char- 
acters and  identification  of,  92-94; 
confounded  with  the  harmless  Virginia- 
creeper,  92-95;  Rhus  radicans,  91; 
Rhus  toxicodendron  arid  its  various 
disguises,  90-92;  Rhus  venenata,  90. 

Summer  calendar,  89-174. 

Swallow-tail  butterfly.     See  Butterfly. 

Swamp-cabbage.     See  Skunk-cabbage. 

Swamp  pinks  (Azalea  viscosa),  57. 

Sweep-net,  curious  insect  harvest  from, 
117-120. 

Swift,  chimney,  nest  of,  224. 

THOMPSON,  ERNEST,  reference,  267. 

Thoreau,  H.  D.,  quoted.  Birds' -  nests, 
219;  "  drum"  of  the  grouse,  42  ;  en- 
tomology, 88  ;  midnight,  121 ;  poison- 
sumach,  90 ;  squirrel  and  cone,  17 ; 
water-beetle,  306. 

Thistle  (Cirsium  lanceolatuni),  rosette  of, 
in  winter,  241;  feathered  seed  of,  171. 

Thistle-seed  pompons,  174. 

Thrasher,  brown.     See  Thrush. 

Three-leaved  ivy.  See  Sumach  (R.  tax- 
icodendrott). 

Thrush,  migration  of,  212;  mocking  or 
feruginous,  or  brown  -  thrasher,  39  ; 
golden  -  crowned  (  see  oven  -  bird  ) ; 
robin,  38  ;  song  of,  39 ;  nest  materials 
of,  224. 

"Tick"  seeds.  150-155. 

Toad  (Bufo  Antericanus): — Song  of; 
dual  tone  of  song,  54  ;  analysis  of  the 
"bagpipe"  drone;  imitation  of  its 


)EX  321 

song>  55 ;  singular  vocal  technique, 
55,  56  ;  decoying  the  ;  Japanese  mim- 
ic whistle  of  song,  56 ;  mitten  of,  in 
a  bird's  nest,  222;  tree-toad  (I/yla 
vcrsicolor} : — Spring  song  of,  52  ;  au- 
tumn song  of,  192  ;  mimetic  decora- 
tion of,  193  ;  Hylodes,  9  ;  in  autumn, 
194. 

Toad-flax  (Linarid),  purple  and  yellow, 
226. 

Tracks  in  snow,  247,  250,  265. 

Trailing  arbutus  (Epigea  repens},  20 ;  in 
February,  22;  Bryant  on,  21. 

Trap,  a  burdock,  197. 

Tree-cricket  ((Ecanthus  niveus),  119. 

Tree-toad.     See  Toad. 

Tremex.     See  Pigeon  Tremex. 

Trowbridge,  J.  T.,  quoted.  The  par- 
tridge,  41. 

Tulip  -  tree  (Liriodendron  tulipifera), 
opening  buds  of,  49;  seed  of,  216, 
284  ;  seed  shower  from,  274. 

Turtle-head  (Chelone  glabra),  227. 

Twigs,  among  the  winter,  257. 

UMBELLIFEROUS  plants  distinguished  by 

butterfly,  84. 
Underground  flowers,  63,  167. 

VASE-MAKER  wasp.     See  Wasp. 

Violet,  yellow  (Viola  rot undi folia),  Bry- 
ant on,  20-22 ;  blue  (Viola  cucitllatd), 
two  sorts  of  flowers  of,  205  ;  cut-leaved 
variety  of  ;  shooting  seeds  of,  206. 

Vireo :— Red-eyed,  221;  solitary,  224; 
white -eyed,  221;  winter  tenants  of 
nests,  232;  nests  and  nest  material  of, 
analyzed,  212,  220. 

Virginia-creeper  (Ampleopsis  quinque- 
folid)  confounded  with  poison -su- 
mach, 92,  93  ;  distinguished  from  su- 
mach, 92-95  ;  many-leaved  varieties 
of,  95- 

Virgin's-bower.     See  Clematis. 


322 


INDEX 


WARBLERS  :— Autumnal-streaked,  black 
and  yellow,  Cape  May,  yellow  red- 
poll, yellow-rumped,  213 ;  Kentucky, 
prairie,  yellow,  worm-eating,  nest  ma- 
terials of,  224. 

Wasps  : — Mud  -  dauber  (Pelopccus),  74  ; 
nest  and  spider  prisoners  of,  156—161  ; 
paralytic  effect  of  sting  on  prey,  47, 
160,  161 ;  paper  (refers  here  to  Polis- 
tes),  74  ;  vase-maker  (Eumenes  f rater- 
no),  46;  how  to  handle  wasps  without 
harm,  183 ;  ichneumon  wasps,  71,  72. 

Water-beetle  (Gyrimis).     See  Beetle. 

Web  caterpillars,  258. 

Weeds  : — In  winter,  280  ;  winter  seeds 
of,  food  for  birds,  280-284 ;  world- 
wide travels  of,  150. 

Weevil,  leaf-rolling  of  hazel.   See  Beetle. 

White  birch.     See  Birch. 

White  bunting,  213. 

White-footed, or  deer-mouse  (Hesperomys 
leucopus),  248. 

Whitlow-grass  (Draba  vcrnd),  21. 

Wild  bean  (Apios  tuberosa),  leaves  at 
night,  126;  Atnphicarpea,  or  hog-pea- 
nut ;  underground  flowers  and  pods 
of,  165-167. 

Wild  carrot,  284. 

Wild  flowers,  earliest,  1-3, 19-24  ;  latest, 
202-210,  226;  "punctual" flowers,  22. 

Wild  geranium.     See  Cranesbill. 

Wild-ginger  (Asarum  Canadense),  21,  22. 

Wild  lettuce  (Lactuca  elongata),  seed  of, 

173- 

Wild  rose,  202;   at  night,  126. 
Willow,  catkins  of,  48 ;  seed  cotton  of, 

170,  208  ;   cone-gall  of,  207. 
Willow-herb-  or  fire-weed  (Epilobiuni), 

241. 


Wilson  on  the  drum  of  the  partridge, 

42. 

Wind-flower  (Anemone  nemorosa),  21. 
Winged  seeds,  170-174,  274,  283. 
Winter  calendar,  247-309. 
Winter:— Insects  of,  234;  butterflies  of, 

34,  184,  270,  289,  292,  305  ;  twigs  of, 

257  ;  leaf-rosettes  of,  240-243. 
Winter  food  of  the  birds,  280-284. 
Winter-green,  false.     See  Polygala. 
Winter  supplies  for  aquarium,  299. 
Witch-brooms,  259. 
Witch-hazel,  blossoms  of,  202,  210-226; 

shooting  seeds  of,  203,  227. 
Woodbine.     See  Virginia-creeper. 
Wood-boring  ichneumon  and  its  victim, 

234-239. 

Wood-frog,  52,  194. 
Woodpecker,  golden-winged,  or  flicker, 

40. 
Wood-sorrel  (Oxalis),  night  attitude  of 

leaves,  127. 
"  Woolly-bear,"  234. 
Worm-eating  warbler,  nest  ingredients 

of,  224. 
Wormwood,    Roman.       See    Ragweed, 

Small. 

Wren,  nest   materials  of,  224 ;    golden- 
crested,  nest  of,  224. 

YELLOW-BILLED  cuckoo,  nest  of,  224. 
Yellow  butterfly  (Philodice),  84. 
Yellow-edge.     See  Butterfly  (Antiopa). 
Yellow-redpoll  warbler,  213. 
Yellow-rumped  warbler,  213. 
Yellow  violet,  20,  22. 
Yellow-warbler,  nest  materials  of,  224. 
Yellow-winged  sparrow.     See  Sparrow, 


BY  W.  HAMILTON   GIBSON 


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